


Tough, and so damn cute.

by speakslow



Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Crushes, Death by fluff, First Love, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Neglectful Parents, Rated T but there is cursing, Sickfic, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-19 00:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12399189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakslow/pseuds/speakslow
Summary: Richie is sick and Eddie the germaphobe comes to the rescue like a brave little toaster. Can he handle it?





	1. Brave

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T because there is nothing beyond first kisses here but there is a lot of cursing
> 
> This story is basically a cannon-cherry-pick-free-for-all with some stuff added. 80's setting with some specific film references but with lots of book characterization. Set in the fall after they fight It. Eventual cameos from the other losers.
> 
> This is legit the first story I've ever written in my life and it's mostly a bunch of cute fluff. (it's bad tho lol)

Eddie Kaspbrak had expected the third Friday of the new school year to be pretty predictable. He’d probably run into Trashmouth after 3rd period on his way to Social Studies and they would exchange a verbal jab or two as they made their way to their respective classrooms. Eddie would have been embarrassed to admit it to anyone, but Richie was his favorite friend. He could drive you to the bughouse and back, but when all was said and done, he was a guy you wanted on your side.

When the losers’ club had united the previous summer to stand against the evil force that had nearly destroyed their town, each of them could say without hesitation that they gained six best friends. But the loudmouth of the group, even with his rough edges and bad wisecracks and constant jabber, Eddie was drawn to him like a magnet to a piece of steel. And when things were at their scariest, when he was ready to give up, Richie would be the one to come to his rescue. He could still feel Richie’s hands on his face, see those magnified brown eyes that compelled him to believe everything would be okay.

In the deafening chaos of the hallway, Richie was nowhere to be found. Eddie allowed himself to be swept up by the surge of kids pushing their way to their own classes. He dazedly walked through the halls on autopilot while his mind involuntarily dragged him back to scarier times, feeding his paranoia.

As soon as he entered the classroom he made a beeline straight over to his friend Bill’s desk.

“Hey, Big Bill. Have you seen Trashmouth today?”

Bill was going over his homework and looked up distractedly. “Uh... Hey E-e-Eddie. N-no. I hav-n-nt.”

Eddie frowned. “Okay. Thanks, buddy.” He knew he wouldn't be able to make it through the entire school day without knowing what happened to Richie. It was weeks since a kid went missing in Derry, but Eddie had always been one to catastrophize. He couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible had happened, and Richie’s parents were not exactly the trustworthy type. Where Eddie’s mother was overbearing to the point that she had induced hypochondria in her son, Dr. and Mrs. Tozier were on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. The father was away for business reasons quite a lot and the mother, well, it was common knowledge that she was a lush who spent afternoons with her bridge club, drinking gin and prune juice. Most of the time Richie was left to fend for himself after school.

Emboldened by his worry over his friend’s disappearing act, Eddie skipped out of school four periods early. It was surprisingly easy, though his mother had always harped about truant officers and penalties for missing class. All Eddie had to do was slip out of the gym’s side door and grab his bike from the rack. The day was warm and humid, and Eddie was sweating despite his shorts and teeshirt. He pedaled across town to Richie’s house with all sorts of terrible ideas floating through his head – Richie fell in the shower and broke his hip, Richie was abducted on his way to school, Richie was God-forbid dead. His heart grew cold.

_What if It came back?_

Tossing his bike on the lawn, he marched straight up onto the porch and knocked on the front door. He thought he could hear the TV playing, but there were no other sounds. Eddie walked down the porch a little way and found that one pair of curtains were not closed. Through the window, he could see Richie napping on the couch in pajamas. Eddie could also see tell-tale signs of sickness – tissues strewn around, medicine bottles on the coffee table, and Richie’s cheeks were pink. He felt his heart do a scary sink-flip. Germs.

_No, fuck that. Grow a pair, Kaspbrak. Germs aren't really that scary considering what you saw last summer. And besides that, you hung out with Richie after school the past 3 days, which is enough to catch it._

Eddie knew all manner of statistics about illness. The amount of days a virus can be present before symptoms emerge (2-5), the length of time that a sick person is probably contagious, (3-10 days), how many germs were expelled from the average sneeze or cough (hundreds of thousands), the point when a fever becomes a real danger (anything over 104).

None of it mattered anymore, though. Everyone in the losers’ club had found out the truth – Eddie’s mom was manipulative, and she’d been making him believe for years that he had asthma, that he was fragile and sickly. But it wasn't true, he was never sick, his inhalers and pills were just bullshit gazebos. Eddie had been trying his hardest to avoid using these instruments of control that he was trained to believe he needed, but occasionally he gave in. Despite his psychosomatic reliance on an inhaler full of flavored water and pills made of sugar, his immune system was as good as any average kid. It wouldn't be a big deal if he caught a cold.

(hey kid, I’ll blow you for free)

Momentarily the face of the leper threatened to break his resolve and he shuddered despite the early September heat.

_That’s different. For one thing, it wasn't real, and for another thing leprosy or syphilis or whatever that thing had… it’s just not the same as a kid with a cold._

He walked down off the porch and made his way to the yard, hoping that the mud porch door would be unlocked as it usually was. The Toziers had a sheepdog, Scout, who usually busted out the storm door by jumping up on it. The only problem was that the dumb dog couldn't get back in without a human’s help, so he’d hang out on the stoop waiting for someone to let him in. Eddie opened the chain link fence and stepped into the yard, spying Scout sleeping on the back steps.

_Perfect._

“Hey Scout. Hey buddy.” Eddie tentatively stretched out his hand with his palm opened flat. Scout sniffed his fingers experimentally and then began to lick, his giant tongue nearly covering Eddie’s whole palm. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut tight at the idea of the germs coating his hand, but again pushed the fear away. Scout stood up and wagged his tail, staring at the door expectantly. As soon as Eddie cracked the door, the dog practically knocked his tiny body over bounding into the mudporch. Staring at the swinging dog door flap, Eddie sighed.

“Here goes nothing.”

He took off his book bag, crouched down and easily slipped through the flap and into the Tozier’s kitchen. He supposed that being the smallest of all his friends had some advantages. Making his way through the kitchen into the living room, he walked quietly to where Richie was sleeping and peeked over the back of the couch. The couch had been made up with a sheet and Richie's head was on one of the pillows from his bed. Ghostbusters sheets. Eddie smiled at the babyishness of it. He could tell that Richie had kicked off a light blanket in his sleep which was tangled up around his bare feet. His friend was snoring softly, taking ragged breaths that Eddie could hear rumbling inside his chest.

 _Phlegm_. _Chest cold? Maybe bronchitis. Oh fuck, pneumonia?_

He took a better look at the medicine on the coffee table. Cough syrup, decongestant, that throat spray which tasted like cherry flavored Windex – Eddie got the chills at the thought of it being blasted into his own throat. He glanced back at Richie and registered his flushed cheeks, pink nose, and damp hair. He reached out his index and middle fingers towards Richie’s temple but could feel the heat coming off his friend’s head without touching.

_Fever, and not one of those medicines has a fever reducer, either. Way to go Mrs. Tozier._

Shaking his head to himself he went back to the kitchen. Right on the counter in plain sight was a bottle of Ibuprofen.

_Who keeps headache and fever medicine in their kitchen? Oh right... Hangovers._

Eddie opened the bottle, took out two pills and filled a glass with water. Then he opened a few drawers and cupboards until he found Mrs. Tozier’s stash of clean dishtowels. He selected the smallest one and placed it into a bowl, filling it with cool water from the kitchen sink. Richie hadn't stirred at all. Eddie carried his supplies to the coffee table. He rung out the rag and gingerly placed it onto his friend’s forehead. Richie’s eyes popped open, “The fuck? Who’s here?” he said softly, his voice stuffy and an octave lower than normal.

Richie couldn’t see jack-shit without his glasses so Eddie spoke up. “Don’t you know that you have to take medicine to bring down your fever, dummy?”

Hearing the voice made Richie immediately relax and he shut his eyes. “Eds. So you’re a nursemaid now? How cute. This feels heavenly by the way,” he said, indicating the rag with raised eyebrows.

“Someone obviously needed to take care of you if you don’t have the sense to do it properly. What’s wrong with you anyway, and where’s your mom?”

Richie chuckled quietly, “Mom, uh, who knows, dude. I woke up this morning feeling like total dog shit and she told me I could stay home, set me up on the couch and took off. So here I lay, dying.” He lolled his tongue out and put his hand up to his cloth covered forehead dramatically, like Scarlett O'Hara in _Gone With the Wind_.

The sick boy opened his eyes and squinted. His face went funny and he brought both his hands up around his nose and mouth, sneezing twice in rapid succession. They sounded like they came from deep inside his chest and Eddie winced, partially out of pity and partially because there were now germs flying all over the place, germs all over Richie’s hands. He kept his composure. “Bless you. When’s the last time you took any medicine?”

Richie limply stuck his hand out, blindly searching for his glasses. Eddie knew that his friend couldn't see a foot in front of himself without them, so he picked them up and placed them into Richie’s reaching palm. Richie popped them on and looked at his friend. “Wow, Eds, you’re like a full-service caretaker over here. Uh, I took medicine when my mom let me come out here to die in front of _Sally Jesse Raphael_ , I guess like nine o’clock? What time is it anyway, 3:30?”

Eddie sighed. It was only 1:45. He knew Trashmouth would tease him for being so concerned that he busted out of school early. “It’s 1:45… When I didn't see you after 3rd period I knew something must have been wrong, so… I came looking for you after 5th.”

Realization hit Richie at that moment. “Hey, how’d you get in here anyway? Oh my god, Eddie Spaghetti. Were you so worried about me that you committed crimes?! Truancy? Breaking and entering? Trespassing on private property?”

Richie was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and the smaller boy’s embarrassment was obvious, his face flushing to match the bespectacled boy’s own fever-red cheeks. “I crawled in through Scout’s door. Y’know you should be nicer to me because a fever is nothing to joke about, so why don’t you just shut the fuck up and take these. And don’t call me Eddie Spaghetti.” He picked up the pills and water and shoved them over to Richie.

The sick boy sat up, tossed the rag on the coffee table and swallowed the pills compliantly, still grinning. He seemed positively delighted by the fact that Eddie was getting defensive. Richie started coughing then, a harsh wet sound. Eddie could practically feel the germs crawling up his arms and climbing into his mouth, but he remained brave. His first instinct was to run for the door.

“Anyway, you should take a round of _all_ these medicines, if you want to feel better I mean.” Eddie sat down on the couch next to Richie and picked up the cough medicine, pouring out a dose into the little cup that came with the bottle. He popped two of the decongestants out of their blister package and tried placing them in his friend’s palm, but Richies hand waved him away. Turning to face into the back of the couch, he sneezed three times in a row. Eddie stiffened and practically dropped the pills on the floor. Being in close proximity to a sick person made his heart drop into his stomach. He closed his eyes tightly but still managed to squeak out, “Bless you.”

“Sorry Eds, I know you’re freaked by this sort of thing,” for once Trashmouth was not joking as he rolled back to face Eddie, sniffling. “So y’know, I really appreciate it that you came to check on me.” 

Eddie pulled two tissues out of the box on the table and handed them to Richie. “It’s no problem. And don’t call me Eds, you know I hate it.”

Richie laid back down after taking the medicine, taking off his glasses and blindly waving them at Eddie to put down. The smaller boy placed them within easy reaching distance and then dipped the rag into the bowl of water and rang it out before placing it back on Richie's fevered face, this time covering his eyes as well as his forehead. Richie gasped softly, and whispered “holy shit. Amazing.”

Satisfied that the sick boy was taken care of and on his way to feeling a bit better, Eddie popped in a movie for a background distraction and set to work on whatever homework he had from his earlier classes. He even read ahead in the classes he had missed, because he knew that he was in for holy hell when his mom found out that he left school early. If she knew that not only was he skipping class, but he’d left to take care of a sick person she’d be doubly pissed-off and force him to drink some gross echinacia-gooseberry-tea-garbage.

The Tozier’s telephone rang and Eddie jumped at the sudden clangor. He glanced at Richie, who hadn't budged. Eddie quietly walked to the kitchen wall phone and answered warily, “Tozier residence.”

“Um, Eddie? Is that you?”

“Yes. Hi Stan.”

“Is Richie okay? He wasn't in school today. I was actually going to call your house next, we missed both of you guys at lunch.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s sick, and his mom, well you know… so I came over to check on him. He’s sleeping now.”

“Wow, that’s pretty brave of you.”

 _Was_ it brave of him, though? Eddie tried to picture himself being ‘brave’ and doing something like this for Stan, and he just couldn't. Rushing to take care of Richie was an instinct, and the urge to get across town to find out what happened had been impossible to repress. It was something deep in his gut that Eddie didn't really understand, he couldn't make the connection as to what it meant.

“Yeah. Brave, I guess...”

Eddie spoke to Stan for a few minutes and hung up, looking at the clock. He knew it would be better to talk to his mother about what he’d done that afternoon sooner than later. Ever since he’d confronted her about his fake pills and aspirator, things had been strained between the two of them but he felt more in control. Stan had told the losers that he had become a man the day he was Barmitzvahed. Eddie understood that feeling, because he’d become a man the day he told his mom to go to hell.

He dialed the phone and took a deep breath.

“Hello?”

“Hi Mommy. It’s me.”

“Eddie-bear, where are you?! What happened? You should have been home 12 minutes ago!”

“Nothing happened Ma... a friend of mine didn't show up at school today, so I stopped at his house to make sure he was okay.” He was purposely vague. He recalled the day he was stuffed in the car outside the Neibolt Street house and was attempting to avoid a similar embarrassing scene.

“Which one of those little troublemakers… I should have known as much. Come home this instant, Edward.”

“Ma, my friend is sick and his parents aren't around so I’m here in case he needs something. I’ll be home later on. It’s not a big deal, so don’t make it into one, okay?” He couldn't believe how easily the words came out of his mouth. A few months prior he wouldn't have dared to cross her authority.

“Edward Kaspbrak, you march yourself home before you catch your death. Where are you, are you with that stuttering little freak? What if you get ill? Oh lord, I can’t take this.”

“Mother, you know what? You’re a whack-job, okay? I was really worried about my friend today and all you care about is how _you_ feel about all this. A-and I’m only scared of getting sick because you made me that way, so why don’t you go watch Oprah and I’ll see you later, maybe.” He slammed the phone down, breathing heavily, shocked by his own words yet pleased with himself.

Behind him, he heard clapping. He turned and saw Richie, sans glasses, sitting up and squinting in his general direction. “Eddie, my man, that was aces. You tell that bitch who’s boss.”

Regret suddenly hit Eddie like a tidal wave and his knees went jiggly. “I’m dead, Tozier. Dead meat standing right here in your kitchen. Oh god.” He put his hand up to his eyes and instinctively reached the other one into his pocket to fondle his inhaler, even though he knew he didn't really need it.

“Nah, buddy, you found your balls. You should be real proud of yourself.” Richie put his glasses back on and smiled at his friend. “And she _IS_ a whack job. Sincerely. You can stay here tonight if you’d rather avoid the wrath. My dad is gone for the next week, at a conference. My mom, well it’s Friday, and it’s pretty fucking common of her to stay out all night when dad’s away.”

Eddie felt momentarily sad for both of them. Was it better to have a parent who was so overbearing that you couldn't even breathe comfortably, or to have one who was nowhere to be found and didn't even care that their kid was sick? He didn't know. Maybe both were equally bad.

Richie continued to stare at the smaller boy with a bemused smile on his face.

“What?”

“You were _really_ worried about me.”

Eddies cheeks flushed with embarrassment again. “Oh, shut up.”


	2. Diligent

Richie hadn't eaten anything all day. Eddie figured that was par for the course in regards to a sick person. His experience with illness (real or imaginary) had taught him that his friend needed to eat and drink at least a little something. Eddie busied himself studying for a few hours while a couple movies played in the background. The patient had slept fitfully on the couch. It was already past dinner time and Eddie had bailed out of school just prior to his lunch period. Whether he could get Richie to eat or not, he had to at least prepare something for himself. The cold cloth had gone warm and dry on Richie’s hot forehead, so Eddie removed it and placed it back in the bowl.

 _What do sick people need? Hydration. Rest. Vitamin C_. _Probably should check his temperature._

Eddie rummaged around in the kitchen until he found some chicken noodle soup. He plopped two cans into a small pot and followed the instructions, adding the correct amount of water and setting a kitchen timer so her wouldn't forget about it. While the soup was heating he ventured upstairs to the bathroom and found a container of vitamin C tabs and a glass thermometer in the medicine cabinet.

Perching himself on the edge of the couch next to Richie’s sleeping form, Eddie shook the thermometer like he’d seen his mom do a million times. The sleeping boy let out a soft noise that as much a grunt as it was a sigh, but didn’t open his eyes. “Hey, Trashmouth. Open up.”

Richie opened one eye and tried to make out what was held in front of him. “Eds, seriously you are worse than a grandma on prom night. I’m fine.” His voice was raspier than it had been earlier in the day.

“I need to see how high your fever is, dumb-ass. If that makes me an old lady, fine. Now put this under your tongue.” He shoved the thermometer into Richie’s mouth as the sick boy was just opening it to make another wise crack.

Eddie sing-songed, “Look it, Trashmouth Tozier can’t talk for a whole 3 minutes, call the Vatican it’s a god damned miracle.” Eddie grinned at his silenced chatterbox friend, who proceeded to pout and made fake crying sounds through his closed mouth.

While the thermometer was doing its job, Eddie went to check on the soup, and noticed Scout staring at his empty bowl. He dished out some dog chow for good measure. Maybe he was being like some old fretting grandma, but he felt totally liberated. He wished that he and Richie could run away from their shitty parents and live together. They’d probably take better care of each other than the treatment they’d each been receiving for the past 13 years.

The soup still had a few minutes to heat, so he went back to check the thermometer. Richie was sitting up with his glasses back on, and he gave Eddie an annoyed “Mmmmph” and rolled his eyes. Eddie sat next to him and took the thermometer to see the damage.

_102.5, not the worst, but pretty high._

“So how hot am I? I mean from your perspective?”

“I think you really are dying, dude.” Eddie said solemnly, ignoring Richie’s teasing.

“Get out, no way.” Richie grabbed the thermometer and squinted at it. “How the fuck do you read this thing?” He broke off coughing and grabbed his throat dramatically, throwing himself back into a laying position.

Eddie shook his head. “It’s 102.5, dodo, which is kinda high, but not that bad. You definitely need to reup on the medicine though, it’s been a few hours.” He rounded everything up, ibuprofen, decongestant, cough syrup, vitamin c – Richie sat up and swallowed everything in uncharacteristic silence. “Does your throat hurt?”

Richie cocked his head and gave Eddie a stare that screamed _I-know-you-aren't-this-dumb_. “What do you think?”

“Okay, fine” Eddie picked up the dreaded throat spray. “Let’s go, open up. Don’t make me pinch your nose and open up for you.”

Richie gave Eddie a slight smile. “You’re so cute, Eds. Such a little mommy.” But he obediently opened his mouth and Eddie gave him three blasts of the gross spray. Richie was less of a baby about it than Eddie would have been. He grimaced a little, but took it in stride, and lay back down on his side.

The kitchen timer went off. “Okay, now you need to eat something.”

“Nope, not happening, Eds. Everything is going to taste like cherry flavored hell. My throat is numb as shit.”

“You have to eat, you can’t just stuff yourself with pills without eating anything. You wanna get an ulcer?”

“Are you kidding? I would love one. Only grown ups with stressful jobs get ulcers, it would be so cool.”

Eddie didn't even dignify him with a response, he just went to the kitchen and ladled them each a bowl of soup making two trips into the living room. They ate over the coffee table in relative silence, with a VHS of the Shining playing on the TV. It was funny how everything seemed less scary after living through the terrible nightmare that was the previous summer. Although the scene with the lady in the bathtub would always be tough to look at.

Richie mostly played with his soup, pushing the noodles around with his spoon. He looked up at the TV just as the creepy scene had begun “Hey Eds look, it’s your future wife.”

“Beep-beep, Richie.”

“No, really, she’s just your type: moldy, water-logged and horny as hell.” Richie dropped his spoon with a clatter and sneezed into the crook of his elbow.

“Bless you.”

“Thanks.” Richie blew his nose. “Why do people even say that anyway, like it’s supposed to do anything?”

“People used to think that your soul would leave your body when you sneezed, so they said a blessing to prevent it from happening. Basically superstition has become ‘good manners,’ which is dumb I guess, but it’s just a reflex for me to say it. Now stop stalling and eat at least half of that soup, or else”

Richie picked his spoon back up and swallowed a little broth. “’Kay, mother.”

Richie eventually worked his way through most of the soup and fell back asleep. Eddie took his friend’s glasses off for him and touched his forehead. Slightly warm but not too bad. Eddie went upstairs to check on the sleeping arrangements. He knew that Richie had two twin beds in his room, which were perfect for losers’ club sleepovers. He wasn’t too confident about the level of cleanliness of the space, though. The entire room was probably a germ playground, between Richie being sick coupled with the simple fact that he was a teenage boy. It usually looked like a bomb had been dropped in there, with books and papers and cassettes and clothes haphazardly tossed around.

After clearing the beds off by dumping their contents on the dresser and desk, Eddie set himself to changing the sheets and pillowcases with fresh linens from the hall closet. GI Joe sheets. It seemed like all Richie’s bedding was bought when he was nine years old. As he was working to set up the beds, the thought of cohabitating with a person who would probably be coughing and breathing germs into the air all night long almost made him have a heart attack. This time he did take a couple puffs on his inhaler, despite his inner voice chastising him for continuing to use this fake crutch.

Eddie regained his composure and went back downstairs. The TV was blue, the film having ended some time ago. Richie was back to snoring, louder now. Eddie looked at him fondly while he collected the used bowls and deposited them into the kitchen sink. No matter how many times Richie called him cute, he hadn't returned the sentiments. He would never dare to say it out loud, but Eddie thought Richie was the one who was cute. With his dark curly hair, angular cheeks and freckles, those goofy glasses only served as a distraction from the truth of it all. Richie Tozier was pretty adorable. The thought set off a buzz in his tummy.

 _It’s stupid for me to think it, though. Richie doesn't really think I’m_ cute _-cute, he just says I’m cute because he’s silly and pushing for laughs and it’s funny to call me names that I hate. He lives for reactions, and I’m so fucking predictable, too. “I hate that, stop it!” Just reinforcing him to keep goofing. What if I had the balls to say just one time, “I think you’re pretty cute, too.” Richie would never goof like that, or call me Eddie Spaghetti again. No matter how much I bitch about it to him, I don’t want him to stop._

He shrugged off his thoughts because they weren't productive at all. Besides, he might have found the balls to tell his mom to back off, but he didn't have the balls to tell a boy he was cute.

Scout got shooed out the back door to do his business for the last time before morning. Looking at the clock, it was only barely 9, which was a pretty lame time to go to bed on a Friday but he figured what the hell else were they were going to do with Richie sick? Once Scout was done, he locked the back storm door. Eddie then gathered all the medicine and tissues from the living room, along with Richies glasses and carried them to the bedroom, depositing everything on the bedside table. Finally, he went back downstairs and stood over Richie’s sleeping form on the couch.

“Hey, Richie. Wanna go upstairs?” He whispered, and Richie didn’t move. He gently shook the sick boy’s arm, and Richie made a sleepy annoyed noise, rolled over and buried his face into the back of the couch.

“Come on, man.” Eddie suddenly realized that he was exhausted. If he wasn't so small, he would have picked Richie up and carried him upstairs just so he could get some sleep. “Look, I’ll leave you down here if you want, but your bed is probably a lot more comfortable.”

Richie finally spoke, congestion thick this time. “I’mb find Eds, get to da choppa. Leave bme here, save yourself,”

“Okay, that’s it.” Eddie harnessed all his strength and hauled Richie up by his armpits into a seated positon.

“Holy shit, you’re like the Hulk. ‘You woudn’t like mbe when I’mb angry…’” Even sick and half asleep, Richie had jokes. But he was compliant, stood up with his eyes still closed and allowed Eddie to lead him up to his room and deposit him on his bed. Eddie fell into the other bed, and both of them were asleep almost immediately.

* * *

Normally when he slept somewhere other than his own bed, Eddie would wonder where he was for a minute upon waking. This time he didn’t have to because he could hear Richie coughing his lungs out. It was still dark out, but the room was softly illuminated by the moon and the neighborhood streetlamps. The bedside clock read 4:30.

Eddie sprang up and went to the bathroom for a glass of water. Richie was winding down when he got back, and Eddie thrust the glass into his hands. He stretched out his hand and laid it across Richie’s forehead as he drank, and the kid was absolutely burning up. Beginning to panic, Eddie fumbled for the thermometer, giving it a shake and passing it to Richie, who placed it into his mouth without saying a damn thing. As it was measuring, Eddie set to laying out the correct doses of medicine, as it had been almost 8 hours since Richie took anything.

“Okay, let me see the thermometer.”

_104.7 Jesus Christ, if I had a fever this high, mother would flip out. This is bad._

“Fuck.”

Richie fell back against his pillow and closed his eyes. His voice was congested and croaky. “It’s hot in the desert, senior. Hot as hell, ese.” His Pancho Villa voice was disconnected and dreamlike, as though he had little control over what was coming out of his mouth. “We heard of oasis, but it’s not here mayne. We canno find it.”

Eddie’s voice was desperate. “Richie, you’re not making any sense. Please, please just don’t do Voices right now. I’m freaking out, okay? Your fever is like ‘let’s-go-to-the-ER’ bad. What the hell am I supposed to do?” Eddie sounded just a hair shy of hysterical which seemed to bring Richie closer to reality.

“Eds, it’ll be okay. I think your mom just gave me the clap.” 

Eddie slapped his hand over his eyes and rubbed all the way down the length of his face to his chin.

_Okay think Kaspbrak, how do you bring a fever down quickly? I could make him get into a cool bath, but that’s awful… What would mommy do? Cold cloth, ice pack, loose fitting clothing._

“You’re gonna think I’m a total weirdo, but you need to change your clothes. Do you have any big teeshirts? Like a really big one?”

Richie just limply lifted his arm and pointed at his dresser. Eddie ran downstairs and looked for ice packs. There were two ace-bandage-type wrap around packs in the door of the freezer. He grabbed them and hurried back upstairs. He took the bowl with the cloth and refilled it with cold water. Then he rummaged through Richie’s dresser. He found a huge Aerosmith teeshirt, probably something that had belonged to Dr. Tozier a long time ago.

“Hey Richie, I need you to take off your clothes. And if you make this into a joke, if you say I’m trying to see you naked, I swear to God I will kill you, I’ll seriously choke you, you understand?”

Richie just pulled his shirt over his head without saying anything and Eddie thought that was the scariest part of everything. Normally even a death threat wouldn’t stop Trashmouth. For Richie to have nothing to say, he had to have been feeling really awful. Eventually the sick boy was done disrobing and sat in his underpants, shivering.

“Ok-ay, s-so dnow w-what.”

Eddie pulled the big teeshirt over his friend’s head and gently guided his arms through the holes. Richie winced at the light contact. The fever was making his body ache.

“Now lay down.”

Eddie rung out the cloth and placed it on Richie’s head. He took the two ice packs and he placed them open flat under the teeshirt, one on Richies chest and the other on his stomach. The cold sensation snapped him out of his subdued transe-like state.

“Are y-you f-fucking cr-crazy, Eds? This is g-goddamn-ed f-f-freez-ing. You have bme s-sounding like Buh-big B-bill.” He attempted to pull his blanket over himself, but Eddie held it away from him.

“You can’t have a blanket, just have to tough it out for a little while. I think fifteen minutes is enough time. The whole point is to let the heat escape your body and this is the best way to get your temperature down quickly. I know it sucks, believe me. It’s better than sitting in a cold bath, though, which is what they’d do to you at the Emergency Room. So just suck it up, you’ll live.”

Richie fell silent, shivering as Eddie handed him the medicine to swallow. The sick boy quickly made it disappear and then there was nothing to do but wait. Richie scrunched himself up into a near-fetal position. Eddie found himself shifting up in the bed to lay beside his friend, inadvertently putting them into a spooning position, with Eddie as the big spoon. Richie was trying his hardest not to shiver, but he couldn't help it. Eddie reached out and began softly petting the other boy’s hair until it was time to take his temperature again.

“103.2. Okay, you’re on the way to something less scary. You can take all that stuff off now.”

Richie flung the rag and the two ice packs across the room, pulled his arms and legs inside the giant shirt and buried himself under the covers, shivering madly. Eddie resumed his position behind Richie, tucking himself under the covers as well. Richie shifted backwards a bit so their midsections were just a hair away from grazing each other. Whether he sought warmth or comfort, Eddie wasn't sure. Eddie rubbed up and down his friend’s arms a few times trying to warm him, going purely on instinct.

“Are you still freezing? I’m sorry I had to make you do that. Do you hate me?” Eddie whispered sheepishly, sounding worried.

Richie rolled onto his other side so he was facing Eddie, but spoke without opening his eyes. His voice was sleepy and less congested. “I’m not cold anymore… and I could never hate you Eds. If you hadn't come over here you would have read in the paper,” he raised his hand up to enunciate the ‘headline’ “ ‘Local boy survives killer clown attack only to die of fever,’ how dumb would that be? You’re the best..really… one of the good ones..” Richie trailed off and was quiet then. His hot foot was touching Eddie’s ankle.

 “Richie, are you still awake?”

Eddie didn't know how long he lay there staring at his friend’s pale face. He reached his hand forward and pushed the hair back from Richie’s forehead and the sleeping boy sighed and leaned into his touch. Eddie thought his heart might explode in that instant.That’s when it dawned on him, that he was looking at Richie the way he’d seen both Bill and Ben look at Beverly. He wasn't sure what to do with that. It scared him.

* * *

When Richie opened his eyes, it was bright out. His nose was completely stopped up and his throat killed. Eddie was asleep, curled up in bed close to him. In the night they had shifted positions with Eddie becoming the little spoon, and their legs were entwined. Richie gently untangled himself from the sleeping boy as he wondered what his mom, or hell what Eddie’s mom would think to see the two of them waking up like this. They’d probably freak. But to Richie it wasn't weird, or awkward. It felt comfortable, the way things were supposed to be.

Eddie was using the shirt Richie had discarded in the middle of the night as a make-shift pillow. The events of the night before were fuzzy, but Richie clearly remembered when Eddie had asked “do you hate me?” Richie fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand. “How could I hate such a cutie?” he said aloud and cringed at his own mangled voice. Reaching into his nightstand drawer, he pulled out his instant camera and took a snap of his sleeping best friend. He began coughing, and again couldn't stop. Eddie shot up like someone lit a firecracker under his ass.

“Richie, you okay?

Richie nodded yes as his coughing fit subsided, then blew his nose. “Jesus man, you really scared me last night. I thought we were going to have to double ride to the ER on my bike.”

Pouring out his own cough medicine, Richie popped his pills and used the red shot of liquid to chase them. He grimaced and said “We wouldn't have had to go to the ER, you knew exactly what to do. If I had been here alone, well, who knows what would have happened. Man, my mom is such a selfish asshole. She knew I was sick yesterday morning, and where is she? I bet she hasn't even come home yet. I get it, I’m not a toddler, but come on already.”

Eddie got up to take a leak and peeked into the Tozier parent’s bedroom. The bed was made, untouched.

_My mom might be a crackpot but I never have to wonder where she is._

Eddie had a new appreciation for Richie’s joking antics. The kid was starved for attention and tried to get it any way he could. The rest of the losers knew vaguely that Richie’s parents were absent, but this was worse than he had imagined. Richie was good at deflection. When Eddie came back from the bathroom, Richie was sitting on his bed, tented in the big Aerosmith shirt and shaking a polaroid picture.

“Uh, what the hell is that?”

“It’s a photo of my knight in shining armor. My sleeping guardian angel.”

“Nuh-uh you asshole, give it here.”

Eddie jumped on the bed and tried to snatch the picture out of Richie’s hands. Even weakened by illness, Richie was stronger than the smaller boy and shoved Eddie down to the foot of the bed.

“No way, I need this for posterity. You saved me last night, buddy, and your cute little self spooned with me in my bed. Using my germ infested shirt as a pillow no less.” Eddie turned crimson. “Oh Eds, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I love you, too. And if your mom wasn't such an overbearing nut case I’d do the same thing for you. Maybe someday I can pay you back. Oh I know! Maybe we should go to the same college and be roommates and then I can put you to bed after your first puke-drunk night.”

Eddie liked the sound of it. Not the puke-drunk part, but the rest of it. And Richie had said he _loved_ him. That made warmth spread through his chest, and he felt simultaneously happy and ashamed by the sensation. He didn't know how to reply without pouring his heart out, so he just said “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hey what time is it? Wanna watch the Glamorous Ladies of Wrestling and eat eggos?”

Eddie smiled. “Totally.”

 


	3. Comforting

The boys made breakfast solely with things they could stick in the toaster: waffles, poptarts, french toast sticks. Eddie was happy to see his friend’s appetite returning. He had changed out of his slept-in school clothes and into sweat pants and a teeshirt of Richie’s, which were huge on him. Richie still had a fever but it was nowhere near as high as it had been the previous night. He stayed in the giant teeshirt that fit him like a dress, but pulled on a pair of flannel pj pants. They let Scout into the yard and sat on the couch with plates on their laps and argued over Saturday morning cartoons.

Eddie was having a great time, but dread kept creeping into his chest. He had basically told his mom to fuck off and then didn’t come home. She probably called the cops and sent them straight over to Stuttering Bill’s house.

_Nah. No way. If that happened, Bill would have been on the phone calling each of the losers to see if I was with them._

“What’s wrong, Eds? You suddenly look like someone crapped into your cocoa.”

“Just remembering that I told off my mom and stayed out all night. She’s gonna kill me, man.”

“You want me to call her up and straighten her out? My voice is pretty deep from this cold, I bet I could pull off a mean impression of Dr. Wentworth Tozier, DDS.”

Eddie actually considered it for a minute. “No Richie, it’s okay. I need to take responsibilty for my own shit.”

“That’s the spirit, buddy.”

Both boys were startled by the sound of keys jingling in the front door lock. Mrs. Tozier stumbled into the hall adjacent to the living room, looking haggard. She was wearing sunglasses, the same clothes she had on the day before, and her hair was a disaster.

Spying the two boys clad in pajamas, she immediately began scolding. “Richard. I don’t remember saying you had permission for your little friend to sleep over.”

Richie was pissed. “Mother, did you bother to notice that I was pretty sick yesterday when you left? Did you know that I had a fever over 104 last night? Of course not, because where were you?”

“Oh Richie, are you okay?” She walked over and reached her hands out to put them on his face and he jumped up off the couch out of her reach. “Mom, you really suck, you know that?” He ran upstairs and slammed the door.

Eddie swallowed hard and looked at Richie’s mom with a strange mix of pity and disappointment. “I’ll go check on him Mrs. Tozier. You look like you could use a shower… and a nap.”

Maggie Tozier just stood there, looking like she’d been slapped. Eddie padded up the stairs and knocked on Richie’s door. “Leave me the fuck alone!” Richie yelled as loud as he could but he was starting to lose his voice. Eddie could hear him sniffling, probably crying.

“It’s me. Can I come in?”

There was silence for almost a whole minute. Eddie had just started turning to walk back downstairs when the door opened. Richie was standing there with his glasses off, tears streaking down his face. He motioned Eddie inside the room and shut the door. They both sat down on the bed, Richie hugged a pillow to his chest and cried silently, his body shaking with breathy sobs.

“Look I know there’s nothing I can say to make you feel any better about this. Your mom is a jerk. All of our parents are jerks in their own way. We’re losers for a lot of reasons, but shitty parents might as well be number one on the list. That’s why we need to take care of each other.” Richie looked up at Eddie. He grabbed some tissues and wiped the tears off his face and then blew his nose for seemingly forever.

“Who needs decongestant, all you need to do is cry to clear out a cold.” Richie’s voice was practically ruined, but he wasn't crying anymore. “Eddie, thank you for just being you. They should package you and sell you at farmer’s markets.” Eddie smiled shyly and Richie suddenly reached forward and pulled him into a death-grip hug. He received the hug stiffly at first, because the sensation of Richie enveloping his smaller form was akin to tiny sparks flicking his skin all over. But then he gave in and wrapped his arms around his best friend. Richie could practically feel Eddie melting into his arms, so he capitalized on the rare moment of vulnerability and dropped his head onto his small friend’s shoulder.

“I love you, too, you know.”

“I know, Spaghetti Man.”

“Okay, well when you say that I love you a little less.”

“You love me either way, and you know it.”

They finally drew back, and Eddie wasn't sure but he thought Richie was blushing a little bit. He opened his mouth to say as much, but at that moment they both heard Mrs. Tozier come up the stairs. She walked straight into the bathroom and the shower turned on.

“What’d you say to my mom?”

Eddie giggled. “I told her she looked like she needed a shower and a nap.”

They both cracked up, Richie’s laugh turning into a coughing fit. They were still sitting in close proximity and Eddie reached over and patted Richie’s back until his coughs tapered off. In that moment he wasn't afraid of getting sick anymore.

After a very long night and morning, Richie was totally wiped out. He lay back against his pillows and closed his eyes. Eddie sat watching him for a minute and then took his lead, curling up in the same spot he slept the night before, back to back with Richie.

* * *

 

They slept for most of the day and into the afternoon. Eddie woke up to the telephone ringing. He ignored it and crept to the bathroom. Richie’s mom’s bedroom door was slightly ajar and he saw her sprawled out on the bed, dead to the world, presumably sleeping off a hangover. When he got back to Richie’s room, his friend was awake with the phone pressed to his ear, his bare brown eyes wide and nervous. Eddie stood in the doorway listening, Richie was too blind and distracted by the call to notice.

“Bisses K, I’mb sorry that Eddie bmade you worried, but he was perfectly safe at bmy house… yes he’s still here….” He rolled his eyes. “Huh, really? I had dno idea that I sound terrible, thanks for letting me dknow… Bisses K, have a little faith. Eddie is a tougher kid thand you give him credit for, evend if he catches bmy cold I think he’s gonnda to pull through… Uh huh… Uh huh… He cand?.. Okay. Dno problemb.” Richie hung up and blew his nose to clear the congestion that had built up while he was asleep.

“Was that my mom?”

Richie looked up, startled. “Jesus creep, give me a heart attack. Yeah, that was her. She said you can stay over another night.”

“Um, has she sustained some kind of head injury?”

Richie chuckled “Maybe. But who cares? I told her she should have faith in you and let you spread your little wings and she agreed with me. Listen my mom isn't going to say shit to me now since I guilt-tripped her. Let’s order a pizza with her credit card.”

The boys spent Saturday night watching movies and eating the pizza that they ordered. Richie was starting to feel a bit better but he was still coughing and sneezing sporadically. They capitalized on the state of his rough and unrecognizable sick-voice and prank called Ben, Mike and Stan, with Eddie nearly pissing himself from laughing so hard with his face shoved into a couch cushion to muffle the sound.

Richie was living for the laughs he was getting from his friend. “Hey let’s prank Greta. She totally deserves it for what she wrote on your cast. That rich bitch has her own phone line.”

Eddie was intrigued. “How do you know that?”

“Stan was her lab partner last year, she had to give him her number. Ive been pranking her since then, really good ones. I can’t believe she hasn't gotten it changed. I do that thing where you call over and over asking for a name, like Rocko. After like 10 calls asking for Rocko, you call and say ‘Hey it’s Rocko, any messages?’”  

Eddie busted up laughing. “No, Richie, stop. I’m getting a headache from smiling too hard.”

“That’s a good thing, Eds. Let’s you know you’re alive.”

 

* * *

 Eddie woke up Sunday morning with his head on the arm of the couch. The headache he had the night before was still there. He heard sounds coming from the kitchen, cooking sounds. Peering over the top of the couch, he saw Mrs. Tozier through the kitchen door. Richie was gone. He assumed that they had both fallen asleep on the couch the night before, they’d stayed up late watching R-rated movies. The last thing he remembered was sitting close to Richie, both of them sharing the couch throw blanket, watching Taxi Driver. That movie scared him than more than any horror movie could anymore. In truth, Travis Bickle’s unhinged nature reminded him of Henry Bowers.

Unsure about how Richie’s mom would react to him after what happened the day before, Eddie tiptoed to the space where the living room and kitchen met, hoping to observe her without being noticed. She was making eggs and bacon and toast. Eddie wrinkled his nose at the idea of eating anything. He quietly backed away from the kitchen doorway and walked up the stairs. He could hear the shower running, so he went into Richie’s room and flopped onto his bed. Eddie had nearly fallen back asleep when he heard Richie come into the room.

Richie’s hair was wet and he had changed into jeans and a long sleeved teeshirt. “Hey Eds. My mom took my temperature this morning and it’s normal now. Want to go ride bikes?” He looked much better than he had on Friday when Eddie found him on the couch, but his voice was like a bullfrog.

“You shouldn't go out running around just because your temperature is normal, especially not with wet hair. It takes 3-10 days to fully recover from a cold. You want to end up with pnemonia? Don’t you know anything?”

“Look you know how my mom is, she said I can go.”

“Just because your mom doesn't care about your health, it doesn't make it okay, dummy.”

Richie sighed and walked over to bed, sitting on the edge. He smelled like coconut shampoo and toothpaste. “What’s your deal? We were having a great time last night, right? We've been stuck in the house for two days, I have permission to go out, so let’s go.” Richie’s last sentence was punctuated by two sneezes.

Eddie sat up. “That’s my deal. You’re still sick. I guess I just don’t understand how you can be like that.”

Richie pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Be like what?”

“Like how you are. We should call you ‘who cares’ Tozier instead of Trashmouth Tozier.”

Richie laughed and started coughing. “Eddie Spaghetti Gets Off a Good One. News at Eleven.”

“You know what? Fine. Let’s go. But I have to stop at my house and change my clothes. And don’t call me Eddie Spaghetti.”

* * *

 

The boys arrived at Eddie’s house fifteen minutes later. Eddie eyed the front door nervously and fiddled with the waistband of Richie’s too-big sweats that he still had on. “You know, there’s a chance she’s going to ground me until I graduate high school. So you might end up having to just leave.”

“Maybe if I make sweet love to her she’ll forget all about what an asshole you were to her on the phone.”

“Great, that’s really helpful Richie.”

“Eds, come on. You can do this. Just walk in there with confidence, tell her you’re fine, it’s Sunday and you’re free and young in America and you wanna skip rocks or some shit.”

Eddie stared hard at the house, took a long drag off his inhaler and slammed his bike down on the lawn. He headed towards the front door, walking as tall as he could. It was his best impression of ‘confident,’ and Richie followed behind with an amused smirk on his face.

The house was silent. He had expected the low hum of the TV playing the Christian station or some cooking show, but there was nothing. “Mommy? Ma, I’m home.” It was Sunday morning, but his mother didn't usually go to church.

Eddie regarded Richie with a puzzled look and then held up his finger to his lips. They quietly walked through the house and up the stairs to Eddie’s bedroom. The room was cleaner, more orderly than Richie’s. There was a stack of comic books on the night stand. Richie grabbed one, flopping down on Eddie’s bed on his stomach. Eddie pulled some fresh clothes out of his dresser. “Turn around so I can change.”

“Uh, if I recall, and correct me if I’m wrong because I think my brain was being boiled, but didn't you force me to strip in front of you Friday night?”

Eddie made an incredulous face, getting way more flustered than what was necessary. “ **Forced** you to strip? Like I did it because I was dying to see you in your underpants, instead of, oh I don’t know, possibly saving you from fever seizures? I’m so sure, Richie.” He folded his arms huffily in front of himself, taking a full on defensive stance. It was impossibly cute, and basically confirmed something that Richie had wondered about for a long time.

Richie smiled, then he spoke casually while browsing through the pages of the comic. “Listen kid, you’re not half as smooth as you think you are. I mean I know the clothes thing the other night was to help me, but there’s something else going on, no?” Richie looked up to meet Eddie’s eyes then, and Eddie couldn't maintain contact for more than a couple seconds. Richie adjusted his glasses as he looked back down at the shiny pages. “But whatever, I like a good ‘will they or won’t they’ story as much as the next guy, so I’ll just let you figure it out for yourself.” Eddie’s mouth dropped open and he blushed up to his hairline. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

Richie clapped his hands together once. “Okay, fine. Forget it. Look I’lll make it easier for you.” Richie removed his glasses and took to squinting his way through a Daredevil book. “See, I can’t see any better than our hero here,” he said, shaking the comic for emphasis. Eddie watched him for a moment, then shook his head while rolling his eyes. He turned away from Richie and quickly changed into clean clothes, dockers and a polo. Richie was so hard to figure. Was he being serious?

_He basically just said that he noticed that I look at him like Bill and Ben look at Bev… I mean, isn't that what he meant? And he…he didn't seem grossed out, he didn't act like I was weird. He seemed… intrigued? Amused? Neutral? Or is it all just a big joke to him like everything else? God, Fuck you Trashmouth._

Eddie ran quickly into the bathroom to find his spare inhaler before they headed back out and instead found a note taped on the mirror. He read it in relative shock, all thoughts of he and Richie and whatever was going on between them momentarily put on the back burner.

_“Edward, Since you seem to think you are grown and can take care of yourself, I thought you would not mind if I went to Bangor to visit my sister. Be back Wednesday evening. I trust that you will get yourself to school on time, eat properly, take your medicines and do your homework while I am away. Kisses, Mommy.”_

Eddie walked back to his room, holding the note, his face both puzzled and hurt. He found Richie dozing on his bed with the comic book covering his face, his arms and legs splayed out like a starfish. “Rich, my mom is gone.”

“Watchoo mean _gawn_ senior?”

“She left, for Bangor. She won’t be back until Wednesday.”

Richie sat up. “Fuckin-A, party at Eddie Spaghetti’s house!” Richie broke off coughing after yelling too loud for his sore throat to handle.

“Yeah, you look totally ready to rage.”

Eddie didn't know how to properly convey how he was feeling about this without Richie thinking he was a lame scaredy cat. He had never slept alone in his house before. Richie flopped back on his tummy leaning his chin on his hand and squinted up at Eddie, “wait, are you scared Spaghetti Man?” Richie was a real pain in the ass sometimes, but he was pretty perceptive.

“I just… my mom usually… yeah… I’m scared to stay here alone.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of, though. At least not anymore.”

Eddie could think of at least thirty different things that he could still be scared of, the only thing wiped from his list was a killer clown that could come up the drain, and he still wasn't even positive that he was confident that It was completely gone.

“What about home invasions? What if the virus you have is already inside me and I get sick and end up with a high fever and no one is here? What if my mom gets in a car accident and dies on the side of the road and never comes back? What if..”

“Okay, okay. I get it. I could stay here with you tonight and protect you from home invaders. But can we still go out somewhere right now, like we planned to?”


	4. Stubborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if it's obvious, but each chapter title is a quality that Eddie possesses.

The boys didn't have enough money to go see a movie at the Alladin. Richie suggested the arcade, and Eddie vetoed, arguing that the entire reason Richie dragged them out of the house was to go _outside_. Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in the Barrens, chucking rocks into the stream. They weren't even trying to skip them, just tossing them and listening to the _thunk_ sound they made. Eddie was being quiet and moody. “Yeah, I can see why you were dying to get out. This is thrilling.”

“You’re just in a bad mood because you finally know what it’s like to be an abandoned child,” Richie replied. “Your mom is such a flip-flopper. Psychotically overprotective for 13 years, and then **boom**. You’re on your own. Welcome to my waking nightmare." His words were bleak, but his voice was cheery.

Eddie looked really uneasy. In truth, he looked like he might puke.

Richie furrowed his brow. “Hey kid, are you doing okay? You look paler than usual, which I didn't think was possible…”

“Oh, screw you Tozier, you’re white as a ghost all the time, too.”

Richie smiled. “True story.” He got up and went over to the brush to find a good stick for poking rocks.

Eddie continued to throw rocks into the water with a frown on his face. He didn't really know why he was suddenly feeling so grumpy. His mom was unbearably in his face for so long, so shouldn't he be happy that she was giving him some space? He was beginning to understand himself a little bit more, and that scared him. Maintaining the status quo was safe, while venturing into new territory was frightening.

_But that’s what growing up is, I guess. Adjusting to change without throwing a tantrum. Learning to take care of yourself. Accepting the reality of who you are and what it means._

He stifled a squeaky sneeze into his shoulder. His heart skipped a beat and for the first time in a long time, he felt raw terror course through him.

_Oh no. I knew it. That’s why I’m crabby and tired and have a headache. I knew taking care of Richie was a bad idea, but I did it anyway, and now I’m getting sick and my mom isn't home. What am I going to do? FUCK I was so stupid to think I wasn't scared of this anymore._

Eddie started to get out of breath, and fumbled around in his pockets for his inhaler. His fanny pack days might have been over, but he still kept his ‘lung sucker’ as Richie had affectionately called it more than once, on him at all times. It wasn't there. How could it not be there? He vaguely remembered setting it down when he changed his clothes, and then his mother’s note distracted him from picking up the spare. He whipped his head around to call out for help and Richie wasn't there either, having disappeared beyond the tall rocks that surrounded the clearing. That’s when Eddie really started to panic. He sat cross-legged in the grass, and he squeezed his eyes shut, gripping onto the ground with both hands, attempting to breath deeply while his chest whistled.

_It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real, the medicine doesn't do anything. It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real, the medicine doesn't do anything. It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real, the medicine doesn't do anything._

Coming back from his hunt behind the boulders and tall weeds, Richie saw Eddie in distress. He was rocking back and forth in place in the same spot he’d been sitting in since they'd arrived. Richie dropped the sticks in his hand unceremoniously and jogged over in an instant. “Hey Eddie, what’s going on? What happened?”

Eddie was still manhandling the ground with his eyes closed. “I can’t… breathe…. Don’t have my inhaler… what… am I… going to do?”

Sitting down in front of Eddie and mirroring his exact position, Richie released both Eddie’s hands from their grip on the ground, pulling them forward. Eddie’s huge, frightened eyes snapped open, and looked right into Richie’s. “Holy shit, Eddie Spaghetti, you look like you’re drowning. Follow me, okay? Breathe in 1, 2, 3, 4. Breath out 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe in 1, 2, 3, 4. Breath out 1, 2, 3, 4.” Richie took deep breaths in and out as he counted off the numbers. Eddie held onto Richie’s hands for dear life and took shaky breaths, but followed the count. He began to calm down, and his breathing slowly returned to normal. Richie stopped counting, and now they were just looking at each other, holding hands. Eddie had never been more grateful to anyone in his life, but he had no idea how to convey it.

Richie stood up, still holding Eddie’s hands, and pulled the littler boy to his feet. “Let’s go back to your house. You’re right, this place is boring.”

* * *

Richie was quiet on the trip back to Eddie’s house. He walked his bike and Eddie followed suit, knowing that it was mostly for his own benefit. The day ended up being cooler and breezier than they thought it would be. Fall was letting them know it had arrived, and both boys privately lamented their clothing choices. Richie was a mess, sniffling hard to keep his nose from running but ultimately failing. Eddie in turn was trying to hide the fact that he was starting to feel sick, because the idea of actually being ill without his mom around was daunting. He sniffled quietly to himself and sneezed a couple times, squelching them to be nearly silent and hoping Richie couldn't tell.

Richie was too busy trying to secretly wipe his nose on his long sleeved teeshirt (knowing full well that if Eddie saw him doing it, he'd freak) to notice Eddie’s discomfort. They made it back to the Kaspbrak’s and put their bikes away on the side of the house before going in, grateful that it was warm inside. Richie went straight to the bathroom to take care of his leaking face, while Eddie attempted to do the same thing in the kitchen, stealthily with paper towels.

Eddie wasn't particularly hungry, but he was a diligent kid and adhering to the life-rules that his mother drilled into his head was important to him. He rummaged for something for the boys to have for lunch. He could practically hear his mother chastising, _“Eddie-bear, you have to eat at least a little something, you’re too skinny!”_ But Sonia Kaspbrak was a paradox. Constantly harping about Eddie’s health, yet stocking the house full of junk. He found a box of powdered donuts his mother had hidden in the bottom cabinet, probably intending to eat them all herself.

“Ugh, how much snot can fit into a human head? It’s crazy, dude.” Eddie jumped at the sound of Richie’s voice behind him. “Hey Spaghetti Man, nothing to be nervous about, it’s just me.” Richie placed his hand on Eddie’s shoulder reassuringly. “So what’s the game-plan for the rest of this lovely Sunday? Oooh, donuts.”

Eddie sighed tiredly. What he really wanted was to lay down and be left alone, but he knew that meant that he’d be signing himself up to be _all_ alone until his mom came back. He knew it was her fault that his head was so screwed up, yet he wanted her to be there. She babied him so much that the idea of someone else taking care of him made him feel gross inside. He associated caring with nagging, smothering – things he didn't want to associate with Richie.

_I think that’s why I like Richie so much. His brand of ‘caring’ is to tease and joke around, say things that make me ‘mad.’ I’m more comfortable with that than I would be if he was ‘nice.’_

It was the first time the smaller boy had tried to speak since they left the barrens, and his voice croaked out of him at first. He cleared his throat before he could say anything. “Um, I think I’m going to take a shower,” he said, already heading in the direction of the bathroom. Richie was halfway through his second donut, oblivious to Eddie’s deteriorating state. Not wanting to sit in Mrs. K’s armchair in the living room, he settled down on the couch in the den (also where the nintendo lived) to watch TV.

In the shower, Eddie let the hot water spill over his head, wishing that it would liquefy and melt the illness right out of himself. He muffled some coughs into a washcloth, hoping that Richie wouldn't hear him over the shower and the TV. The light from the window in the bathroom filtered down, making the water-spray shine like diamonds and he admired it, passing his hand through the dry gaps. He closed his eyes and could still feel Richie’s hands, holding his hands. Their warmth and strength, making his heart slow down, drawing him out of his asthma attack.

_Panic attack. I don’t have asthma. I never did. I get out of breath when I panic. Having someone who can be strong and patient and calm, like Richie can be when he wants to be, is the medicine. Mommy just makes it worse, and I want her to be here._

He scoffed aloud to himself at the irony of his life, and quickly finished cleaning himself up. If he took too long, Richie would probably make a joke about how long he’d been in there, ‘tickling his pickle.’ When he was done he dried off and dressed in flannel pj pants and a too-big sweatshirt. His head felt foggy but the shower helped stave off his mounting cold symptoms, just as he hoped it would. Joining Richie in the den, he found his friend sitting upside down on the couch, watching a re-run of Gilligan’s Island with his legs dangling over the back. “Gilligan is such a loser, Eds, he’d fit right in with us,” he said without looking at Eddie. Eddie threw himself down on the couch with a sigh, curling up in the corner with a throw pillow. He tried focusing on the show, but his eyelids were too heavy for him to stay awake.

It took Richie a couple minutes to realize that Eddie had knocked out. He was so cute laying there with his knees pulled into his chest, wearing a gigantic college sweatshirt he was positively swimming in that had belonged to his late father. A light bulb went off in Richie’s head.

_Wait a minute. Eds is tired, crabby, pale, wearing jammies in the middle of the day. Aw, I made the little dummy sick. I’m an asshole._

He flipped himself upright and reached over placing his hand on Eddie’s forehead and found it warm. Eddie’s eyes shot open. “What are you doing?”

“Why didn't you tell me you were starting to feel sick?

“I didn't, because I’m not.”

“Oh no? De-nile is not just a river in Egypt, Spaghetti Man.”

“Beep-beep, Richie. I’m fine. Now can we watch something less shitty than Gilligan’s Island? I’m falling asleep because it’s so boring.” Eddie adjusted himself to appear more alert, propping his head up on his hand with his elbow on the arm of the couch.

Richie decided to play along with the game. “Okay then, what’s your pleasure? Family Fued? As the World Turns? A very-special-episode of Full House? I’d put on a video but your mom only has Tom Selleck movies. Mrs. K wants to ride that mustache.”

Glancing back over, Richie saw that Eddie had shut his eyes again. He silently got up and went to the bathroom to look through the medicine cabinet. He found a thermometer and a bottle of liquid cold-combo medicine. “’Fever, headache, sniffling, sneezing, coughing, body aches’, sounds about right. ‘Do not operate heavy machinery’. Good thing Mrs. K isn't in town or I’d be shit out of luck.” He giggled at this own joke as he made his way back to the couch. “Hey, Eds. Earth to Eddie Spaghetti.” Eddie groaned, rolled onto his stomach and covered his head with the couch pillow. “Go away, Richie!”

“Jeez, I didn't imagine you’d be such a diaper baby when you’re sick, considering how much practice you've had being ‘sick’,” Richie pantomimed air-quotes on the last word.

“I’m **_NOT_** sick!” Eddie yelled, and then he started coughing, hard. He had to sit up to catch his breath.

Richie was looking at him with amused eyes. “Not sick at all, perfectly healthy, as always.” He handed Eddie the thermometer. “Now prove it.”

Eddie took it in his hand and looked at Richie, puzzled. “Huh?”

“Prove you’re not sick. If your temperature is normal, then I’ll leave you alone. And don’t try to pull some shit with the thermometer. Put it under your tongue.”

Eddie rolled his eyes so hard his irises disappeared for a second. He shook out the thermometer while staring daggers at Richie, and then placed it into his mouth.

Richie fiddled with his glasses. “I honestly have no clue how to read that thing, though. So you might be able to trick me on this one. The best laid plans of mice and men and all that happy horse shit.”

Eddie took the thermometer out after three minutes had passed and handed it to Richie. Richie stared at the small glass tube like he was trying to read Greek. He held it up to the light and squinted, spinning it around and around between his fingers until Eddie got frustrated and grabbed it back. “For God’s sake, Tozier, why are you so dumb?” He quickly read the red bar in the center of the tube, “It’s 101.7 okay? Are you happy?”

Still with amused eyes but looking slightly confused, Richie's voice was gentle, very un-Trashmouth. “No, it doesn't make me happy, it’s my fault you’re sick. I’m sorry. But what’s the big deal? What’s the point of pretending you aren't sick? You’re not gonna die, you just are gonna feel yucky for a couple days. But I can help you… I mean if you _want_ help, if you _need_ help. If not, I can fuck off.” After hearing Richie’s earnest response, Eddie felt foolish and tears welled up in his eyes. “Woah, hey, Eddie Spaghetti, don’t cry.” Richie pulled him into a hug.

“My mom has really fucked my head up, Rich. I know that I'm being dumb. I’m sorry I’m such a weirdo,” Eddie wailed, and then began sobbing. Richie was alarmed by his friend’s raw emotion and whispered to him, rubbing circles on Eddie’s back. “Hey, hey kid. It’s okay. You’re not being dumb, just stubborn. You’re my favorite. It’s okay Eddie.”

Eddie slowly calmed down, taking deep hiccupy breaths. He let go of Richie and looked at him, rubbing one eye. “I’m… y-your favorite?”

“Well… yeah. Why else do you think I make fun of you so much?”

Eddie chuckled. “Because you’re a jerk.”

“That too, yeah. And by-the-by, you aren't dumb, but you hit a home run with 'weirdo'”

Richie poured out a dose of the cold medicine and gulped it like it was a shot of whiskey, complete with a wince and slapping his hand on the coffee table. Then he poured a second dose and handed the cup to Eddie. “Before you give me some shit about germs, you already got what I got. Unless maybe you think you can catch foureyes-itis.” Eddie gave him a small smile and pounded the medicine in one gulp, too.

“Now let’s see what Uncle Jesse is up to.”

* * *

 

Both boys fell asleep on opposite sides of the couch, sharing a blanket that Richie found in the hallway linen closet. Richie woke first, surprised to see that they had slept until nearly dusk. Eddie was bundled up and curled into a ball, his face pale save two pink blotches on his cheeks. He looked so cute that Richie wanted to ruffle his hair, but restrained himself.

He decided to make a courtesy call home to let his mother know he wasn't dead, but he doubted she'd care. Truthfully, Richie expected to speak to the answering machine.

“Hello?”

“Hello there mother of mine, how do you find yourself on this gorgeous Sunday’s eve?”

“Richard, where are you?”

“Eddie’s. Okay if I stay here tonight? I’ll still go to school tomorrow.”

He heard his mother sigh and he crossed his eyes while shaking his head.

“Your voice sounds atrocious. You’re going to get that boy sick and then his mother is going to call me and complain.”

“Well there’s bad news and there’s good news.”

“ _Richard..”_

“The bad news is that Eddie Spaghetti has already fallen ill with the suburban plague. The good news is Mrs. K went out of town til Wednesday, so she probably won’t even know about it. Young Edward is afraid to stay home alone. I should be so gracious as to stay with him like he did for me when _my_ parents abandoned _me_ in my time of need.”

“Fine Richie. You have permission to stay there, but I want you home tomorrow morning, _early_ , do you understand? I mean it. I want you in this house before you need to leave for school.”

“Want a bit of a skuttlebutt before the bells toll for the schoolday, ay-wot milady?”

He could practically hear his mother rolling her eyes. “ _Richard_ … goodbye.”

As expected, his mother had shown no concern for his wellbeing, just worry that she would face a confrontation with Eddie’s mother. He would have felt sorry for himself, but he was used to it. Richie sneezed, unexpectedly and violently, a reminder that Eddie was laying there in the approximate state that he himself had been in on Friday.

_Poor Eddie Spaghetti. He probably feels like dogshit warmed over in a microwave. What did he do for me when I felt shitty?_

Richie didn't have a lot of experience with someone fussing over him when he was sick. He remembered seeing people drink chamomile tea with honey on TV when a character was ill. He also recalled the bit Eddie had done with the cold compress on his head, which had felt really good, and he rounded up supplies to make that happen. He set the kettle on the stove to make tea, figuring the little guy needed some fluids. Perusing the cabinets, he found a stash of tea bags and prepared two cups with honey.

Eddie had known exactly the right thing to do in every situation, and it really showcased how strong and together he actually was. The losers didn't give him enough credit collectively, his inner strength was unmatched. Richie brought his meager offerings to the den and resumed his spot on the couch, watching Eddie sleep for a few moments.

_Well maybe Big Bill and Bev have him beat in terms of raw confidence, but considering what he’s coming from… Mommy says you’re fragile, practically made of glass, but you charge headlong into danger anyway. Find out your medicine has always been bullshit and try your hardest to stop using it, even when your brain tells you that you still need it. Been scared of germs your whole life, but come to my rescue anyway and end up sick yourself. Tough, and so damn cute._

Richie remembered what he’d said earlier that day to Eddie, like he had just been talking about the weather and not their previously unspoken feelings about what they really meant to one another. Richie could objectively say that he liked Eddie more than he liked his other friends. He gravitated towards him when they were in a group and preferred to spend time with him one on one.  When he called him cute, he meant it, but because he joked so often it was taken as such. He used to think that Eddie would run away scared if he found out it was for real.

He was always mouthing off about tits and beavers and sure, he’d stared at Bev in her underwear when they went swimming along with the rest of them. Sometimes in class he found himself wondering what color bras some of the girls were wearing. But he also found himself internally asking similar questions about Eddie sometimes, and Bill too, for that matter. It wasn't something that he found to be confusing. It just was the way of things, just something he’d known about himself for a long time.

Eddie saw it differently, he knew, though they’d never spoken of it until today. Eddie was terrified to say that he looked at boys the same way most guys looked at girls, and Richie supposed that he was too, to a degree. Not because of how it made him feel about himself, but because of the way Henry Bowers had called them faggots, because of the way Patrick Hockstetter side-eyed him in the hallway. It could prove dangerous to admit it when there were people like that in the world.

The sleeping boys eyes opened unexpectedly and he caught Richie staring at him. He sat up groggily and winced. “How long have I been sleeping?” His voice was rough and gravelly.

Richie averted his eyes shyly and moved towards the bowl on the coffee table, “Probably long enough for the medicine to have worn off. Here, lay back down.”

Doing as he was told, his big eyes followed Richie’s hands as nurse Trashmouth provided him with a cold cloth for his head. He let the cool sensation lull his eyes shut again and asked, “Were you watching me sleep?”

Faltering for a moment, he stammered, but instead of making a wise crack to save himself Richie answered honestly. “Uh, Yeah... For a couple minutes, yeah. I was thinking about how strong you are, and how you don’t seem to know it.”

One corner of Eddie’s mouth turned up but he didn't say anything. Richie thought that Eddie had fallen back asleep because the silence stretched so long. Then softly, sleepily, “I’m only strong when it comes to you. Well, you and the other losers, I guess. I would have died for you guys. But mostly for you.”

“Me too, kid.” But Eddie was already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The losers club (sans Bev, but she is mentioned) appear in the next chapter.


	5. Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is short, but necessary

By some small miracle, Richie arrived at home promptly at 7:30 AM on Monday morning, like his mother had asked. The house was silent, he didn't even hear the sound of coffee percolating, an expected morning sound in the Tozier home.

The previous night had been mostly uneventful, again Eddie proving his strength without even having to do anything. Eddie didn't get a high fever like Richie did with the same illness. He ate their dinner of frozen pizza without complaint (though Richie could tell he wasn't really hungry), and he seemed to be less stubborn about being babied as the night wore on. His immune system and general manner of being silently mocked his mother’s view of himself by being rock-solid.

They had played nintendo for a while before both retiring to Eddie’s bed to sleep, and there wasn't even a discussion about Richie taking the floor. Eddie slept through the night like a champ, and neither of them commented on the fact that they again woke up in a cuddly position when the alarm went off. Richie made sure his friend took medicine and promised to return after school to keep him company. As he had been leaving, he heard Eddie croak out “Wait!” and he was given a guilty smile and passed a crumpled note. A forged sick-excuse note for Richie to give to the woman in the main office which explained not only his absence for that day, but for skipping out of school on Friday. 

“Damn, Eds. What a rebel.”

Richie quietly opened the door to his parent's bedroom. The Tozier house was silent because Maggie Tozier was still asleep. Richie grumbled a curse under his breath before shaking her awake.

“What's going on?! Oh Jesus, Richard, what are you doing?”

“You made such a big deal about me being home before school started and you aren't even up? Is this _The Twilight Zone_?”

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I just wanted to make sure you were well enough to go back to school. I don’t need the office calling me to come pick you up.”

“That’s what you care about. Appearances. Gotcha. Well what if I tell you I’m _not_ well enough to go, does that mean I can stay home?”

She pulled him down to a seated position on the bed and felt his forehead. It was warm and clammy from his bike ride, but not feverish. “ _Are_ you not feeling well enough? You still sound terrible, but you seem like you're feeling better to me.”

Richie had to go to school, if only to give in Eddie’s excuse slip so his mother wouldn't get a call about his absence. As far as Sonia Kaspbrak was concerned, they both swore to maintain that Eddie had never gotten sick at all. If she found out that he, Richie Tozier, had personally gotten her son sick he may never see the little guy again.

“No, I’m okay now. And Stan the Man probably misses me too much for me to stay away for another second.”

Richie got himself ready for school, stuffing a few things for Eddie into his backpack, including a mixtape he had made a long time ago, a tape that he’d never shown to anyone. An ancient looking sticky label on the side of it read ‘Spaghetti Songs.’ Richie licked his lips, nervous about giving it to Eddie, because it possibly revealed a little too much. They were just songs that reminded him of his friend, so what? He popped the tape into his walkman to listen to on the ride to school. In truth, he knew that listening to it would probably make him chicken out and keep it to himself.

All of the songs were incredibly sappy, but every time he listened to them he could see Eddie clearly in his head. He knew it was a risk, but he didn't want to keep it to himself anymore. Though Richie cringed a little listening to _Songbird_ as he pulled up to the bike rack.

_That one is definitely going to scare the boy. This is a terrible idea. Fuck._

He locked up his bike and headed into the school, stopping at the front office to drop off Eddie’s note. Morning classes breezed by and the next thing he knew he was seated with the losers at their usual lunch table. Stan the Man _had_ missed him. “I thought you might have died, but then Eddie told me you were just sick. For a couple hours there, I thought the world had been done a favor. Oh well.” Richie grinned.

Bill was busy re-reading a letter than Bev had sent him and Ben was trying to snatch it away. “G-get lost, Haystack. She wrote to _me_. It’s p-p-p-rivate.”

Ben scoffed, “Oh, bull private. She’s all of our friend, you don’t own her.”

“You both wish you could see her privates.”

“Beep-beep, Richie,” chorused by four voices with a collective horrified groan.

“So you gave Eddie the plague?” Mike asked, eager to change the subject.

“Not on purpose, but yeah.”

“Y-you s-s-sound like you s-still have it y-yourself.” Bill’s serious face looked concerned.

Richie’s voice was trashed and he still had a cough. “Maggie Tozier has a ‘no fever’ rule. Once there’s no fever she doesn't give a shit. Not that she really gives a shit when there _is_ a fever, she just lets me stay home.”

“Are you going to see Eddie after school?” Ben had given up trying to read Bill’s letter but his chubby face was still flushed from their minor conflict.

“Yeah, the little guy is a trooper though. Did I tell you guys he forged a note in his mom’s handwriting? He’s gone wild, I tell you.”

Mike was impressed. “Do you think he’d want us all to come by to visit him? I’d like to give him a high five for that one.”

Richie squirmed a little. He had planned to give Eddie the mixtape when they were alone so he had a minute to explain it, and if the other losers were around he knew it wasn't going to happen. “I don’t know. He’s kind of weird when he’s _actually_ sick. I got the impression that he didn't even want me to be there yesterday, but he tolerated it.”

“He didn't want you to be there because you never shut up and you call him names he doesn't like to be called and talk about having sex with his mom.” Stan blinked at Richie. “We’re the good guys, here. Besides I have the most classes with him and I can give him the notes he missed from Friday and today.”

Richie knew that it had been settled, and looked down at his lap, dejected. When he spoke though, he kept his voice jovial (at least he hoped it came across that way), “Makes sense, Stanley. Can’t argue with solid logic.”

Bill met Richie’s eyes, and something unspoken passed between them. Billy-boy was always good for a near-psychic moment. Or maybe he was just empathetic and could read Richie like a book. “S-st-Stan. Maybe we should give E-eddie a l-little s-s-space. Call him when y-you get ho-me and s-see if he wants us to come b-by tomorrow. Y-y’know, when he’s less con-c-contagious.”

Richie mouthed _thank you,_ to which Bill just smiled.

Stan wasn't buying it though. “Why should Eddie care if _he’s_ contagious? We’re the ones who are at risk in this scenario, and we don’t mind. Well I mean I guess I mind, I don’t particularly want the plague, but Ive been around patient zero since last week,” he said, indicating Richie as ‘patient zero.’

“He cares that _he’s_ contagious because our Eddie Spaghetti is a strange little bird. I understand him better than you do.”

Mike laughed. “I don’t think Ive ever heard a truer statement than that.”

“Birds of a feather flock together.” Ben was cracking up.

“Okay, ha-ha great, I only understand him because I’m weird, too. You guys are hilarious.”

Stan smirked. “If the shoe fits.”

“So Billy-boy, has our miss Marsh said if she plans to visit her favorite friends sometime in the near future, or what?” Richie was eager to change the subject again, but he wasn't asking in vain. He missed Bev’s energy in the group, no matter how many times he’d teased her.

“Uh, w-well. Th-ats the th-thing. Bev and I wr-write to one an-other b-but I think s-something weird is going on w-with her. Sh-she doesn't remem-b-ber some stuff that happened last s-summer. I think she rememb-bers **us,** m-m-mostly anyway, but… I d-don’t really know h-how to e-explain it.” Bill blinked down at the lunch table, looking sad.

Richie scoffed, offended. “Hold the phone, she _'mostly’_ remembers _us_?! How could she forget **me**?”

Stan smirked again and said to the others, “Ive tried, it’s impossible.”

“Well... if Derry really has been under It’s spell for hundreds of years, maybe leaving Derry... breaks the spell,” Ben mused thoughtfully.

Mike lowered his voice and made quick eye contact around the group as he spoke. “Yeah but if we only remember because we’re still here… then doesn't that mean that It is still around? I thought we killed It. How else would we remember and she forget? I mean, isn't that proof It's alive?”

Stan grew pale. “Okay how exactly did we get on this topic right now? _I_ want to forget! Do I have to move away before that can happen?”

“Honestly we all should want to get the fuck out of here as quickly as we possibly can.” Richie said, dead serious for once. “I’d miss you guys and all, but this town is a hell-hole.” He felt bad for trying to deter the losers from visiting Eddie. If they really would forget all about each other if they ever moved away, shouldn't they be spending as much time together as possible? 

“Stanley, if you want to visit Eddie today, we should all go together. He’s a squirrelly little fucker sometimes, but I think he’d like it.”

* * *

 

The boys made it to Eddie’s in record time once the final bell rang, and Richie was the first to the door. He felt nervous about showing up with everyone without Eddie’s express permission. Spaghetti Man had gotten so emotional the day before, just over admitting he was ill. Richie absently wished there was a dog door he could crawl through instead of pushing the bell so Eddie wouldn't have to get up to let them in, but he knew he couldn't fit through one anyway.

“Are you going to ring the bell or what?” Stan crossed his arms across his slim chest and made a face.

Ben reached across Richie and pressed the black button. Several minutes passed.

“M-maybe he’s s-s-sleeping,” Bill offered.

Richie had an idea. “You guys wait here.” With that, he ran around the side of the house to the backyard. Eddie’s bedroom window was directly above the back door awning, and Richie had climbed up there and into his window on other occasions when Mrs. K had him on house arrest. Richie got up on the stoop railing and pulled himself up onto the awning, where he was able to see inside of Eddie’s bedroom. Eddie was sleeping, and Richie’s heart tugged a little at the idea of disturbing his rest. But then he felt a crunch beneath his feet. He banged frantically on the window as he realized that the awning might not be strong enough to hold him along with his bookbag’s combined weight. He saw Eddie jerk awake and turn his head towards the window, wide eyed. Richie gave him something that was halfway between a smile and a scowl and motioned frantically for Eddie to open the window.

The window and screen both made squeaking sounds as they opened. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m about to break your awning and my neck, Eds, can you just help me in?”

Eddie helped Richie drag himself up as best he could, and the taller boy slammed down onto the bedroom carpet face first, his glasses flying off in the process. “Ugh, that was fucking fantastic.”

Eddie laughed as he pulled Richie to his feet, then started coughing. “Should I even ask what the fuck you did that for, or…?”

Richie rubbed his face. “We rang the bell and you didn't answer, so I had to make shit happen, Eds.”

Eddie reached down and picked up Richie’s glasses, holding them. “We?” Right as he said it, the doorbell rang twice.

“The losers wanted to come cheer you up, I hope that’s okay. They’re waiting down in front.”

“All of them?”

“Well we’re short a saucy redhead, but yeah. Listen, before they come up…” Richie took his bookbag off one shoulder and flipped it in front of himself, digging into the front pocket. “I wanted you to have this, but uh… can you not look at it until everyone else leaves?” Richie passed him a piece of notebook paper wrapped and folded around something small and rectangular. Eddie looked at it, then shook it. He knew it was a cassette from the sound it made and smirked at Richie (was he blushing?), taking in his eyes and freckles, a sight he rarely got to see because they were usually obscured by those glasses.

“Hey, no fair, wait until everyone is gone, for real, okay?” Richie’s bare face looked nervous, shy and sweet. “I mean if you’re up for guests. If you’re not I’ll personally tell them to go kick rocks.”

Eddie handed off the glasses and then walked over to stow the gift in his nightstand drawer before settling himself back in bed. “They can come in. Do you mind going down to open the door?”

“Sure.” Richie adjusted his glasses and tossed his bookbag on the floor before heading downstairs.

“About time Trashmouth, what took so long?”

“Stanley, Stanley, our lovely Eddie Spaghetti must prepare for guests, why are you so impatient?”

The boys filed in and made their way up the stairs to Eddie’s room, while Richie went into the freezer to get some ice to put into the Gatorade he had brought for his sick friend.

_Okay, well it’s done. He’s going to know. What if he freaks out? Oh God, I hope he doesn't freak out. And he better not make fun of me for putting ice in Gatorade._

Richie could hear Eddie giggling as he walked back up the stairs and smiled to himself. Bill and Stan were sitting at the foot of Eddie’s bed, Ben occupied the desk chair and Mike was leaning against the window sill. They were laughing about something that had happened Friday afternoon in study hall, a period both he and Eddie missed. Richie crossed the room and placed the Gatorade next to the bottle of medicine on the night table.

“Hate to interrupt your fun, but when’s the last time you took medicine Spaghetti Head?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “This morning before you left. I slept most of the day.”

Bill and Stan exchanged a look. _Before you left?_ Stan mouthed at Bill. Bill raised his eyebrows. Ben saw the exchange and looked from Bill and Stan to Eddie and Richie. Richie poured out a dose of the liquid and Eddie drank it, chasing it with the Gatorade.

“So wait, Richie, you slept here last night?” Stan looked amused.

Eddie spoke up quickly as Richie sat down beside him at the head of the bed. “Yeah, I was scared to stay alone with my mom being away. I know it’s silly, but…” He shrugged and looked down at his lap.

Ben looked thoughtful. “Did you guys also have a sleepover on Saturday night?

Richie ducked his head and bit his lip, remembering the prank phone calls.

Mike looked up with a big smile on his face. “Holy shit, that was you!”

Ben looked at Mike. “I know! I should have realized it when I heard what Richie’s voice sounded like this morning.”

“You sons of bitches.” Stan was not amused.

“Hey, leave Mrs. K out of this.”

“W-w-wait, what’s going o-on now? I suddenly f-feel lost.”

Stan glared at Richie. “Oh so Big Bill gets spared, good to know Trashmouth.” Stan looked at Bill. “On Saturday night I got a call, the person asked for Mr. Wall. I told him there wasn't anyone by that name in my house. Then he said ‘well how about Mrs. Wall,’ so I said, ‘no, no Mrs. Wall either.’” Richie and Eddie both started shake with muffled giggles. ”And then he asks ‘How about Harry Wall, anyone by that name?’ So I said ‘ _NO!_ ****There are no Walls here!’ Then the fucker goes ‘So how does your roof stay up?’”

Everyone in the room was in hysterics except for Stan. Eddie and Richie’s laughs both turned into matching coughing fits. Richie recovered first and patted Eddie’s back.

“You guys are so immature, I swear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter has a lot of song lyrics, so you'll get to see what exactly reminds him of Eddie.


	6. Sentimental

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie listens to the tape. Or "The fluff before the angst."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just pure fluff basically, I want to punch myself in the face for writing it.  
> This is also a song lyrics bonanza, songs and links if you want to hear them listed in the end notes

The losers had stayed with Eddie for a few hours before taking off for home. Richie was the last to leave, and he stalled at the front door saying goodbye to Eddie. He realized that there wasn't anything funny to be said. “So uh… you think you’re going to be okay to stay alone tonight? I guess I can always sneak out after my mom goes to bed and come back if you need someone here.”

Eddie tried to look brave. “I think I’ll be okay. I know my house is safe.”

Richie thought back to the conversation the losers had around the lunch table and he wasn't so sure about all that anymore but he wouldn't dare to say it to Eddie before he left. He didn't want to scare the crap out of him. “Okay, well, you have my number if you change your mind. Hope you feel better, Eds.”

“Thanks, Richie. See you tomorrow?”

Richie smiled as he turned to walk out. “Definitely.”

“Oh, and Richie?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t call me Eds.”

After the door closed behind him and he heard it lock, Richie lingered on the porch for a few moments looking at the colors in the darkening sky. He took a deep breath and noticed that he was a little shaky. He knew everything would change after Eddie opened up his little notebook paper envelope, and the anticipation of _how_ things would change might have been enough to kill him.

* * *

 

As soon as Eddie was alone, he raced upstairs and yanked open his bedside drawer. He unwrapped the paper and looked at the cassette. It was a mix tape that was battered from being played so many times. The label was faded, but it said ‘Spaghetti Songs.’ Eddie was going to toss the looseleaf aside, but he could see a scrawled note inside the folded paper. He unfolded it and smiled at Richie’s terrible handwriting.

_Eds, These are songs that make me think of you, and I made this tape a while ago. I meant what I said the other day, I do like a good ‘will they or won’t they’ story as much as the next guy, but the ‘will they’s are more my speed than the ‘won’t they’s. I feel like such a stupid sap right now and I hope I don’t chicken out on giving this to you. So if you are reading this, just know that it took a shitload of balls for me to hand it over. A shitload. Richie <3_

Eddie’s heart was pounding and his face felt hot but it had nothing to do with being sick. He walked over to his cassette player on jello legs and stuck the tape into the slot, hesitating for a few seconds before plunging the button down. He crossed the room and laid on his bed to listen.

 

_….You say, you want, diamonds on a ring of gold. You say, you want, your story to remain untold. But all the promises we make, from the cradle to the grave. When all, I want, is you…._

_….I’ll give a little bit, I’ll give a little bit of my life for you. So give a little bit, give a little bit of your time to me. See the man with the lonely eyes. Oh, take his hand, you’ll be surprised…_

_….And you can tell everybody, this is your song. It might be quite simple but, now it’s done. I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words. How wonderful life is, while you’re in the world……_

_….Say my name, sun shines through the rain. A whole life, so lonely, then you come and ease the pain. I don't wanna lose this feeling. Oh, close your eyes, give me your hand. Do you feel my heart beating? Do you understand?…._

_…..Haven’t had a dream, in a long time. See the life Ive had, could make a good man bad. So, for once in my life, let me get what I want. Lord knows, it would be the first time…._

_….Don’t ask me, what you know is true. Don’t have to tell you. I love your precious heart. I, I was standing. You were there. Two worlds collided. And they could never tear us apart….._

_…Show me a smile then. Don’t be unhappy. Can’t remember when, I last saw you laughing. If this world makes you crazy and you've taken all you can bear, you call me up because you know I’ll be there…._

 

_…..For you. There’ll be no more crying. For you, the sun will be shining. And I feel that when I’m with you, it’s alright. I know it’s right. To you, I’ll give the world. To you, I’ll never be cold. ‘Cause I feel that when I’m with you, it’s alright. I know it’s right. And the songbirds are singing, like they know the score. And I love you, I love you, I love you like never before….._

Eddie’s eyes had welled up and spilled over at least eight times listening to the mixtape, but the last song was the killer. He blew his already stuffy nose and stared up at the ceiling. His abdomen felt fuzzy inside, like it had been stuffed with cotton and he wished he had said that he was scared to stay alone so Richie would still be there. He didn't feel stupid anymore for thinking Richie was cute, because he _was_ cute. This was the cutest thing he could think of. He rewound the tape and listened to it again.

* * *

 

A few streets over, Richie laid on his bed staring at the ceiling, too, but all he listened to were his own thoughts. He kept looking at the clock, and he wasn't sure why. Did he expect Eddie to call him?

_Yes. I do. He’s either going to call me and squeak like a little mouse about how much he loves the tape, or he’s going to call me and tell me I have the totally wrong idea and to stay away from him. I don’t know which possible reaction makes me more nervous. Giving up control feels like shit._

Richie had basically handed his heart over to Eddie, and Spaghetti Man could either protect it like it was precious, or totally smash it to pieces. With each second that passed, Richie leaned more towards the smashed heart scenario.

11:30.

Expecting Eddie to call him this close to midnight seemed foolish, so he got himself ready for bed. He was brushing his teeth when he heard the phone ringing, and he chucked his toothbrush down and sprinted through the house to the line in his bedroom.

“Hello?”

“Rich.” Eddie’s voice was raspy and Richie couldn't read it.

“Hi.” Richie pressed his lips into a thin line.

“I listened to it.”

Richie shut his eyes and tried to keep his voice casual. “So… Did you like it, or..”

“That was… the most beautiful thing that Ive ever been given.”

Richie raised both his arms up into the air, his eyes still shut, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder. “Well, I mean it. I’d sing _Songbird_ to you right now if my voice didn't sound like garbage.”

Eddie laughed softly. “I wish I had told you I was still scared to stay here alone.”

“Are you?”

“Well yeah, of course I am.”

“I’ll come. Just say it, and I’ll come. Fuck it. _If this world makes you crazy and you've taken all you can bear, just call me up because you know I’ll be there.”_ Richie’s singing voice was normally pretty good, but this was decidedly terrible.

“Beep-beep, Richie. Come over.”

* * *

 

After a brief conversation with his mother about the late phone call (“wrong number”), Richie pretended to go to bed and when he thought the coast was clear, climbed out his bedroom window. He walked over to Eddie’s house in his pajamas and converse, wrapped in a denim jacket. It wasn't the first time he’d snuck over, but it felt foreign because he’d never been nervous to see his best friend before. He didn't think that the basics of he and Eddie would change that much, but he didn't know what to expect. And as much as he talked about sex and virginity, he lacked any actual experience.

When Richie walked up to the front door, it opened immediately. Eddie stood there, beaming like a friggin' spotlight. Richie smiled as he walked inside. “Were you watching for me?”

“Duh,” Eddie said, shutting the door behind them and then leaning against it. Richie could hear his tape playing faintly upstairs. “It’s still playing?” Richie smirked and scrunched up one eye. “’Cause I think maybe you’re playing it again.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but still couldn't stop grinning. “Ive played it more than two times and that’s all I’ll say.”

“So I wager that this means you aren't freaked out.”

Eddie looked down at the floor. “No, I’m not freaked out. You’re really brave. Braver than I am, anyway because I was prepared to take this to my grave.” With his face still downcast he brought his eyes up to meet Richie’s. “And you’re a pretty good secret keeper, I didn't realize.”

Richie stepped forward so he was directly in front of Eddie. He used his index finger to turn Eddie’s chin up so that their faces were close together and said “I’m not a good secret keeper, I hide the truth by making jokes.” He gently pressed his lips to Eddie’s. It was close-mouthed, chaste and soft, but to Eddie it was like a bolt of electricity that spread throughout his entire body.

Richie drew back and Eddie still stood there with his eyes closed. “Eds. You okay?”

Eddie nodded without opening his eyes. “Eds, are you going to cry like a big sap?”

Eddie nodded again and a tear spilled out from his closed lid. He wasn't fooling anyone so he just blinked them out.

“I’m sorry, I’m being dumb. That was my first kiss,” he laughed a little through his tears and added, “and don’t call me Eds.”

“Eddie, you’re not dumb and don’t be sorry. I already knew that you’re a big sap who cries at movies.” Richie used his thumbs to gently wipe the tears off Eddie’s cheeks. “It was my first kiss, too.”

Eddie did an over-exaggerated double take, and slowly smiled with all his teeth showing. “Get out of here. **_You?_** Mr. ‘I fucked your mom?’ Mr. ‘Can only virgins see this stuff?’”

Richie looked embarrassed but grabbed Eddie’s hand and led him up the stairs. He kicked off his shoes, tossed his jacket on the desk chair and placed his glasses on the bedside table before laying down on the bed. Eddie joined him but laid on his side, head propped up on his elbow, looking at Richie.

_….You with the sad eyes. Don’t be discouraged though I realize, it’s hard to take courage. In a world full of people, you can lose sight of it all. The darkness inside you, make you feel so small…._

“So you’re telling me… that you never even kissed anyone? You told Stan that you got to 2nd base with Veronica Grogan.”

Richie kept his eyes on the ceiling. “Oh, Stanley the Manley is _dead meat_ when I see him… Yeah Eddie, I said that. I also said that I impregnated your mom,” Richie counted off the lies on his fingers, “that I didn't like _Say Anything,_ that I for real saw a Gremlin at my cousin’s house five years ago… I say a lot of stuff. Most of it is bullshit.”

_….But I see your true colors, shining through. I see your true colors, and that’s why I love you…_

Eddie turned on his back so they were shoulder to shoulder, both staring up.

“You liked _Say Anything_?”

“I loved it.”

“But you teased me for crying when we saw it.”

“Yeah, because what was I supposed to say?” Richie turned over on his stomach and looked at Eddie. “’You’re so cute and sentimental, let me be your Lloyd Dobbler?’ No way.”

Eddie rolled and faced away from Richie, who thought he’d maybe said the wrong thing until the bed bounced from the force of Eddie letting out a curiously loud sneeze for such a small person.

“Sorry,” Eddie said shyly, rolling back over. Richie reached his hand over and grazed his thumb over Eddie’s forehead, which was warm but not overly so.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s my fault you’re sick in the first place.”

“It was my choice to come to your house. I could tell you were sick before I came in, I saw you through the window. I was really scared, and wanted to run… but I came in anyway. I wouldn't have done it for anyone else. It’s not fair that your mom is the way she is, she should have been taking care of you.”

“Yeah, but it’s also not fair that _your_ mom is the way she is, either. Both of them suck.”

They laid in comfortable silence, listening to the music.

“Do you really want me to stop calling you _Eds_ , Eds? Because I will. It’ll be fucking hard, but I’ll try.”

 “No. I like when you call me your dumb pet names, and I don’t know why. I guess I like it when you annoy me.”

“Good, because I think to stop being annoying I might need to get a brain transplant.”

The tape played back through to _Songbird_ and Eddie felt the waterworks coming again and he blinked them back fast.

_….And I wish you all the love in the world. But most of all, I wish it for myself. And the songbirds keep singing, like they know the score. And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before. Like never before….._

“Who does this song? It’s so pretty.”

Richie cringed a little. “Fleetwood Mac. My old man is a big 70’s rock guy so I grew up listening to this album, among other things.”

The tape stopped.

‘Wait.” Richie said with a little smile. “Did you flip it over?”

Eddie looked surprised. “There’s more?”

“Edward my darling, there’s two sides to every tape.” Richie said as he stood up and flipped it over. He laid down on the bed and slung his arm over his eyes in embarrassment, because being next to Eddie while he heard it for the first time was a little overwhelming.

 

_…..If you need a friend, don’t look to a stranger. You know in the end, I’ll always be there. But if you’re in doubt, and if you’re in danger. Take a look all around, and I’ll be there. I’m sorry I’m just searching for the right words to say. I know they don’t sound the way I planned them to be. And if you wait around a while, I’ll make you fall for me. I promise you, I promise you I will….._

Eddie saw that Richie was hiding his face and scooted his way over, laying his head down on Richie’s chest with his arm rested over his belly.

_…Oh please don’t drop me home. Because it’s not my home, it’s their home and I’m welcome no more. And if a double decker bus, crashes into us. To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die. And if a ten-ton truck, kills the both of us. To die by your side, the pleasure, the privilege is mine. Take me out tonight. Take me anywhere, I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. And in the darkened underpass, I thought ‘Oh God my chance has come at last’. But then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask…._

“Rich?”

“Yeah?”

“When did you know that you liked me?...I mean, you said you made the tape a while ago, so…If you don't want to say you don't have to.”

Richie took his arm from over his face and wrapped it around Eddie before he spoke.

“Remember when our class took that field trip to the science museum?” Eddie hummed in recognition.  “And remember how they had that thing on the roof where you could make big bubbles with the giant wands?”

Eddie grinned. “Yeah, it was my favorite part.”

 

_….There is a light and it never goes out. There is a light and it never goes out. There is a light and it never goes out…._

 

“I know it was. I saw you up there, holding that wand that was bigger than your head, so fucking happy to make those stupid bubbles. I just knew I liked you and I wanted to tease you every chance I got.” Eddie squeezed his arm tighter around Richie’s middle.

_….Love, I get so lost, sometimes. Days pass, and this emptiness fills my heart. When I want to run away, I drive off in my car. But whichever way I go, I come back to the place you are…_

Eddie sat up. “The _Say Anything_ song, from when that guy did that thing with the radio.”

“Yeah. The song made me think of you way before we saw the movie… So what about you Eds, same question you just asked me. And I guess you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but I showed you my cards, so...”

Eddie hesitated and then lay back down, on his back this time, with his head on Richie’s midsection so that they were perpendicular to one another. Richie began softly petting his hair and Eddie closed his eyes at the sensation. “Well if I’m being completely honest I only really admitted to myself that it was true over the weekend…. But… Remember when Bill had that birthday party at the skating rink?”

“Yeah, you suck at skating so much, you were like velcroed to my side trying to keep yourself upright.”

“Yep. And you were so patient. You could have just gone off skating around and having fun, but you stayed with me and kept me from falling the whole time. I knew it then, that I liked you, but I kind of just tried to ignore it.”

“’ _Sweets, you couldn't ignore me if you tried_.’”

“Beep-beep, Judd Nelson.”

“Even if you knew how to skate and didn't need my help, I wouldn't go off skating and leave you, Eds. Not a chance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:  
> U2 – All I Want is You  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Gwahh04Y1Y  
> Supertramp – Give a Little Bit  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ed5WWRgX-TY  
> Elton John – Your Song  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13GD78Bmo8s  
> The Bangles – Eternal Flame  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSoOFn3wQV4  
> The Smiths – Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2nxQLJmshak  
> INXS – Never Tear Us Apart  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyZU4iNRdsM  
> Cindy Lauper – True Colors  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPn0KFlbqX8  
> Fleetwood Mac – Songbird (might be my favorite love song of all time)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTi19MPOvDw  
> When in Rome – The Promise  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5HI_xFQWiYU  
> The Smiths – There is a Light That Never Goes Out (close second for fav love song of all time, lol)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y9Gf-f_hWpU  
> Peter Gabriel – In Your Eyes  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s9CD4_3wChM
> 
> “Sweets, you couldn't ignore me if you tried.” - The Breakfast Club.


	7. Hopeful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: incoming conflict and angst, parental homophobia, halp. I can't keep up angst for too long though, so don't worry,
> 
> Surprises and drama going on in this one, my brain is exploding off on its own tangent and I can’t stop it, sorry. This story might end up being longer than I originally intended.

_“What in the hell is going on here?!”_

Richie was jolted awake by an angry voice. At first he thought it was his mother, but then he registered that something warm was pressed against his side and draped over his chest. It couldn't have been his mother, because he was still in Eddie’s bedroom. They had fallen asleep together laying on top of the duvet. He couldn't see very well but he made out a large smudge standing over the bed. He squinted down at Eddie, who was also awake, with saucer-sized eyes.

“Ma… You said you’d be gone until Wednesday.” Eddie’s voice was beginning to sound as bad as Richie’s.

“Edward, are you honestly trying to question me as though _I’m_ in the wrong here? I'm an adult. I decided to come home early, and I'm glad I did. Now I get to see what you do behind my back. Explain to me what you're  _doing_ , exactly.” Eddie sat up and moved away from Richie, his eyes grazing the carpet, struggling to find something to say. His silence told his mother more than any explanation he might have come up with.

“You know, I thought I had to worry about that Marsh girl corrupting you, but I was a fool to think that, wasn’t I? Little did I know it would be someone even worse. This little foul-mouthed piece of trash.” The words stung Richie pretty hard. He knew he was a bad influence, but a piece of trash? Ouch. He glanced at Eddie, who had stopped looking frightened. He was glaring at his mother. 

Richie tried to take the high road. “Mrs. K, I’m sorry that I came over here without your permission…”

“Good. You’ll never get my permission to come over here again.” Her voice softened a bit. “Eddie-bear, are you sick? Your voice.. and you don’t look well.”

He shook his head at her. “Ma, I’m fine, I caught a cold. I don’t look well because you’re being rude to someone I care about. Someone who doesn’t make me feel totally defective because I’m sick.” He jumped up and ran to the bathroom. Richie reached for his glasses and starting gathering his shoes and jacket for a swift exit.

Sonia Kaspbrak lowered her voice. “Listen you little asshole, I mean it. Stay away from Eddie from now on.” 

Richie looked up from tying his shoes. “God forbid your son be happy. Right, Sonia?”

She stepped towards him. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. Do you need me to call your mother to tell her what I walked in on? I’m sure she’d really love to hear all about you.”

He got up and started walking out of the room, but his anger got the best of him and he turned back. “We were just sleeping, take a fuckin’ chill pill. You know what? Call my mother if you want, I don’t give a shit.” Stopping in the hallway he called out, “Eds, I’m sorry, I have to go… I’m proud of you,” hoping that Eddie had heard him. He got the hell out of there. Halfway to his house he had to squat down and hold his head in his hands while he sobbed, but he wasn’t sure when (or why, really, he was more angry than sad) he’d started crying.

_If anyone were to see me right now they’d think I’m some homeless street urchin on a drug bender._

He laughed through his tears and got up, continuing his walk. At least he could count on his brain to come up with something he found chuckalicious, no matter how bad circumstances might seem. Being threatened with the possibility of not being able to spend time with Eddie anymore hurt, but it wasn’t the first time it had happened.

 Even if Mrs. K _didn’t_ call his mom, he knew he was going to get railed anyway when he got home. In his rush to get out of there, he hadn't looked at the time, but he could tell by the sunlight that he was late. The boys had fallen asleep abruptly and neglected to set an alarm. He expected to walk into a scene. What was he going to tell her?

_“Hey mom, I had the most perfect night last night, and then the most fucking terrible morning ever. Don’t even start with me.”_

_“Hey mom, did you know I sleep walk? Me neither, I just found out. I woke up at the quarry. Isn't that crazy? Oh man, eggos. My favorite.”_

Richie arrived at his house and went in through the front door, figuring it was too late to save himself by sneaking into his window. The shower was running, so his mother was occupied. He attempted to turn the knob on his bedroom door and it was locked.

_Oh shit, I forgot that I locked it. She doesn't know I’m not in there! I’m gonna get away with it! Oh fuck, that means I have to climb in the window, anyway. Goddamnit._

Ten minutes later, after wrestling with the tree next to his bedroom window, he was laying face down on his bed. He wallowed in the sad reality of the morning’s events.

_I’m never going to be able to see Eddie outside school anymore. Mrs. K could choose at any time to make a phone call that might totally fuck up my life, but really who knows what my parents would say. They don’t care about much. On top of everything, I’m going to eventually have to explain this to the rest of the losers. ‘Sorry guys, I can’t hang out with Eddie anymore. Why, you ask? Because I like him too much.’_

He jumped at a pounding on his bedroom door.

“Richard, you are going to be so late for school. I thought I told you not to sleep with the door locked.”

“Um, yeah… sorry mom. I’ll get ready fast.”

Maggie Tozier begrudgingly gave her son a ride to school, and by some miracle, he wasn't late.

* * *

Sonia Kaspbrak kept Eddie out of school for the remainder of the week. Richie knew it was overkill, Eddie should have felt well enough to return by Thursday, tops. He figured she was doing it solely to keep Eddie away from him, and he felt totally helpless. On Friday morning he was sitting in class, wondering if she would release Eddie from prison long enough for him to go to Bill’s sleepover that night, when an envelope dropped onto his desk. Stan stood over him, and gave him a wry smile. “Special delivery, for Trashmouth.” Richie looked down and saw his name in Eddie’s neat writing on the front of the envelope. “I went to see him yesterday after school,” Stan said, taking his seat next to Richie. “He’s better, like he should definitely be in school today, but his mom is being… Well…”

“An asshole? A monster? The fucking worst?”

“More or less.”

Richie didn't know how much Eddie had told Stan about what happened. He hadn't said anything to anyone himself, because telling the whole story would mean outing Eddie. The teacher walked into the class, so he tucked the letter into his folder to read when he was alone, and put on his _pretending-to-pay-attention_ face. He had to put on that face for every single class he’d been in since that shitty morning when he last saw Eddie.

Stanley whispered to him. “You should pay attention, like for real.”

“Shut up, I am,” Richie hissed back.

* * *

He was the first person seated at the loser’s lunch table, which was a rare occurrence, so he took advantage of the solitude and tore open the envelope. Eddie’s handwriting was small, neat, and cute, just like him.

_Richie,_

_I hope you’re doing okay, and I’m so sorry for the way my mother talked to you. You didn't deserve to be treated like that, and what she said isn't true. I’m also sorry that I ran away instead of staying to defend you. It probably seems like she kept me home all week to separate us, but she’s really just being overprotective about my getting sick. I let her win that one. But I’m feeling better and I hope you are, too._

_She’s calmed down a little bit about the whole thing. I told her about me, and I also told her it isn't your fault, it’s just me. She still said she doesn't want me to hang out with you, but how is she supposed to stop me? We had a long talk about me growing up and not needing her to be so in my face and protective anymore. She was kind of freaked out about everything pretty much, oh well._

_But anyway, she gave me permission to go to Bill’s house for movie night, so yay!_

_I can’t wait to see you, I miss you!_

_Love,_

_Eddie Spaghetti_

_P.S. I didn't tell any of the losers what happened, like any of it. I figured that’s for both of us to decide._

_P.P.S. Was this letter sealed when you got it? If Stan opened this and read it I’ll kill him._

Richie felt like he would never be able to stop smiling. He held the letter against his chest.

_He signed it Eddie Spaghetti._

“What’s that?” Richie jumped, and saw that Ben had joined him at the table. “Sorry if I scared you.”

“It’s okay, Ben. I’ve been kinda jumpy lately. Gotta work on that. It’s uh… a letter.”

“It’s not from Beverly, is it? Because if she’s writing to you _and_ Bill…”

Richie laughed. “No, it’s not from Beverly.” He put the letter in between the pages of his spiral notebook. “Oh. Well it seemed like it was from a girl. That’s all.” Richie just nodded, because he didn't know what else to say. 

Bill and Stan approached the table together and sat down. Bill smirked at Richie's goofy grin. “W-what are you s-so happy about?”

“We live in a beautiful world, William, full of beautiful people. The sun is shining and life is amazing.”

Stan made a really sarcastically grossed out face. “Okay, I think Richie is going to be one bed over from Bowers in the nut farm, soon. This morning he was pissed, now he’s about to bust out with a verse of _Shiny Happy People_.” Stan’s expression changed, and Richie could practically see the gears in his head turning as something dawned on him. “Ohhhh.” He smiled evily, and then narrowed his eyes. “I _knew_ it.”

Mike had just joined them. “What do you know?” He looked around at the other losers, Richie looked nervous, Stan looked triumphant, Bill and Ben wore matching confused faces. “Okay, something weird is going on.”

Richie sighed. “Nothing weird is going on. Stan just has a really big mouth. And if he’s smart, he’ll wait.” He paused. “Until everyone’s present.” He paused again. “To run… his really… big… mouth.”

Stan softened his face. “Touche. Fine, nevermind. But just FYI, _you_ calling _me_ a big mouth is the funniest thing you’ve ever said, hands down.”

“Okay. N-now I just want to know what is g-going on.”

“Same,” Ben and Mike said in unison.

Richie shrugged. “Nothing’s ‘going on,’ Stan just thinks he’s a genius. So what are we watching tonight?”

“I rented _Evil Dead_ , _St-Stand By Me_ , _St. Elmo’s Fire_ , and _Better off D-Dead_.” Richie made a face. “We’ve seen those movies a bunch of times.”

“You and Eddie never pay attention to the movies we watch anyway, and you know it,” Mike said.

Richie could feel Stan staring at him, so he looked over. Stan raised his eyebrows and smiled. Bill looked back and forth between them. “I _r-really_ want to know w-what you know,” he said to Stan.

* * *

The boys dispersed after the lunch bell and Stan and Richie were headed towards the same class.

“I’m really regretting not steaming that letter open.”

“Well, Eddie wrote in the letter that if you read it he was going to kill you, so it’s a good thing you didn’t. A Mitzvah, let’s say.”

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“It means a blessing, and I used it in the exact right context. You’re terrible at being a Jew.”

“Yeah, well you’re terrible at being a human.”

Richie clutched his chest. “Oh, right through the heart. Stanley, you animal.”

* * *

Losers’ club movie nights usually started at 6 PM. Occasionally they gathered at Richie’s house, but Bill hosted more often because he had the most coveted space and atmosphere. A den with a large TV right off the kitchen and parents who were largely ignoring. The Tozier's were absent in a lot of ways but they were still more strict than Mr. and Mrs. Denbrough.

Richie was usually the guy who was late for everything, but that Friday he was the first to arrive. Bill answered the door and widened his eyes when he saw that it was Richie.”Okay, s-something weird is _definitely_ going on. Why are you s-so early?”

“Happy to see you too, Billy. I’m early because I’m a swell guy, I can help you pop popcorn.”

“Are you a born-again ‘s-swell guy,’ or what?”

“ _Big Bill Gets off a Good One_. You’re killing me, Bill. My sides, they are split.”

Bill and Richie worked together setting up the den, pushing the couch back so there would be room for everyone to put their sleeping bags down. They popped popcorn and prepped a cooler of sodas in ice.

“Who usually helps you with this stuff?”

“You mean who usually shows up first?”

They both looked at each other and said at the same time, “Eddie.”

“So Spaghetti Man usually shows up first, and he’s not here yet.”

“Okay, listen, St-stan wouldn’t tell me why you guys were acting s-so weird, but I asked him if it had something to do with Eddie and he kind of sh-shrugged. Did you guys have a fight?”

Richie sucked on his bottom lip. “Your stutter is getting a lot better. I guess that speech therapy stuff actually works, huh?” Bill cocked his head and gave Richie a look that said _don’t-change-the-subject._ “No, we definitely didn’t have a fight. But the weirdness surrounds us, you’re right. I was actually hoping I could snag him to talk to before everyone else got here, but it seems like that isn’t going to happen so..” The doorbell rang.

“M-maybe that’s him.”

“Okay, then I’ll get it.”

Taking a deep breath, Richie swung the door open. “Why, Haystack Calhoun, as I live and breathe. A big time celebrity wishes to mingle among the common folk…”

“Beep-beep, Richie.”

The losers began arriving, and Richie raced for the door each time, only to be disappointed, spew out his usual brand of verbal diarrhea, and eventually get beeped by each of them. They were all waiting on Eddie. Bill’s mom had ordered a pizza for the group and they decided to start with _Better Off Dead_ because it was the funniest movie they had. They were nearly an hour into it when the bell rang again. Richie leapt up and sprinted towards the front of the house. Stan gave Bill a look and mouthed _Finally_.

Mike looked at Stan. “What’s going on, you obviously know _something_. This is the strangest Ive ever seen Richie act, and that’s saying a lot.”

Richie came back in, looking defeated. “The pizza dude needs money, Bill.”

The movie ended and they went with _Stand By Me_ for the next showing. Bill, Mike, Stan and Ben were playing cards, betting with pretzels. Each of them were throwing concerned glances towards Richie, who pretended to watch the movie. Finally, the bell rang again. Bill opened his mouth to say something but Richie had already bounded into the front hall and flung open the door.

“Holy shit _, Bev_.”

Beverly looked nervous, holding a rolled sleeping bag and smiling too politely. Her hair had grown a little bit and she was taller than Richie remembered her. She turned from him to wave goodbye at a car in the drive-way, her aunt dropping her off. “Um, Bill invited me. He said he wanted it to be a surprise.” 

Richie smiled at her. “It is, a huge surprise.” He recalled what Bill had said about her letter.

_She’s looking at me like she’s never seen me before. She really doesn’t remember us. Holy shit, this is so fucking weird._

“Um, well… All the guys are gonna go totally crackers when they see you, so maybe you should prepare yourself.” He put his arms out to invite her to hug him, and she stepped forward awkwardly. He whispered into her hair, “Jesus Christ Beverly, do you really not remember us?”

She pulled back to meet his eyes. “Bill told you. Things are coming back to me slowly. I swear to God, when I hit the town line, I started to remember bits and pieces.” She smiled geniunely at him. “Beep-beep, Richie.” He laughed. “Hey, I didn’t say anything to deserve a beeping. But at least you remember me. Why don’t you go on back, through the kitchen. I’m gonna step outside for a minute.”

He sat down on the front stoop with his elbows on his knees and hung his head down into his hands.

_Some clone of Beverly is here and Eddie Spaghetti is almost two hours late. ‘You’re entering another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind.’_

“Your next stop: The Twilight Zone,” Richie said to himself.

“Who are you talking to?”

Ben came out of the house at the perfect time to think he caught Richie going bughouse. “Myself. So, did you see Bev?” 

Ben sat down next to him on the step. “Yeah, that’s why I came out here. She’s not very… Bev-like. And it’s sort of creeping me out.”

“Yeah. She said she was starting to remember things though. Maybe after a few hours with us she’ll be more… Bev-like.” They both saw Eddie coming up the street at the same time. He was carrying a big bag and his sleeping bag.

“Spaghetti Head!!” Richie screamed.

“Uh, RIP my eardrums.”

“Sorry, Benny.” Richie got up and jogged to meet Eddie down the block. Ben watched from his spot on the stoop. Richie took the bag from Eddie and then enveloped him in a hug. It was a long hug, and Ben looked away because it felt like he was witnessing something private. He looked back when he thought it should have ended, but his friends were still locked together.

Richie finally pulled back. “Did she make you walk all the way here?

“She didn’t _make me_ walk, I just didn’t want a ride from her. She made me late by forcing me to go shopping with her so it was like a power move. ‘I can get myself there, screw you.’ I mean I didn’t say that, but refusing a ride was a statement.”

Richie grabbed his shoulders and gently shook him. “Way to go, Eddie. You see? That’s why I said I was proud of you. Standing up for yourself.” Richie glanced over and saw that Ben was still watching them and clearly interested in what was going on, but he doubted Ben had super-sonic hearing. “So, uh, what are we going to tell them.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re all freaking out and super curious because Stan the Man thinks he’s a friggin’ genius for figuring us out and he was like ‘I _knew_ it’ and then they were all like _‘knew what??’_ and I was like ‘Stanley, I’ll murder you in your sleep if you say it without all consenting parties present.’ And he was like…”

“ _Richard_.”

“Oh my God, you just channeled my mother.”

“We can say or not say whatever you want. It’s not a big deal to me, they’re our best friends. Now can we just go inside? I want to see everyone.” Eddie grabbed Richie’s hand and started leading him towards Bill’s house.

“Wow dude, coming out to your mom has done wonders for your self-confidence. Oh shit, you’re in for a big surprise when we get in there. I feel like I need to prepare you, but then you won’t be surprised. I can say just from my reaction, I would have liked a warning because it’s total weirds-ville.”

They made it to the stoop and after a short greeting with Eddie, Ben asked, “Did Richie tell you?”

They both saw him looking at their clasped hands, and let go. “Um, he said there’s a surprise, and basically that it’s,” he glanced at Richie, “not necessarily good? I don’t know.”

“It’s weird.” Ben said. “It seems good… but then it gets weird.”

* * *

The three of them entered the den together, and the red haired girl was seated on the couch with her back to them. Eddie’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my God, Bev?”

Beverly turned around and looked at him politely with a strained smile. “Hi.” All of them had imagined what it would be like to see Beverly again. They had pictured warm hugs and her confident presence. Her inviting yet pleasantly teasing personality. This girl had Bev's face and eyes and hair but she looked as though she were meeting strangers that she found to be a little threatening. Richie put his face close to Eddies ear and quietly hummed the  _Twilight Zone_ theme. Eddie looked across the room to Bill, who bit his lip.

_This was a bad move Denbrough, everyone is totally awkward and freaked out. I should just kiss Eddie right now, they wouldn't even notice._

But Eddie moved away from him, and walked over to sit next to Beverly on the couch.

Beverly sighed. “Look I know based on the way you guys are all looking at me that you were expecting something… different. I started forgetting things as soon as I left Derry. And I have a feeling that some of the things I forgot, I’d rather them _stay_ forgotten.” She looked at Eddie. “Like I remember that you had a broken arm. But I don’t remember _how_ you broke it.”

Eddie looked down at the floor. “I wish I could forget how I broke it, too.”

“Me three.” Stan crossed the room and sat on the other side of Beverly.

Mike spoke up. “Bev, we’re sorry if this is awkward for you. We’re all just really happy to see you, and we don’t have to talk about anything major. We can just watch a movie and eat pizza and play cards. Okay?” Eddie couldn't contain himself anymore and threw his arms around Bev. She accepted it warmly, rubbing his back. 

“Eddie Spaghetti," she breathed. Hey! I just remembered that.”

The group put on another movie and eventually sleeping bags were unrolled and some of the losers were sprawled out on the floor playing a board game. Bev began to warm up as the night went on, remembering little bits and pieces from the summer. No one mentioned It, or anything vaguely related to It.

Richie and Eddie sat on the couch with their fingers interlaced. All the other losers were too distracted by Bev to notice them. They didn't talk about what had happened with Mrs K, and the possible future problems that might come of her threats. Both of them were just happy to be sitting next to each other surrounded by their friends. _Evil Dead_ was playing, and Eddie was scared but he pretended he wasn't. 

Stanley passed by the couch on his way to the bathroom and saw them holding hands. He sat down beside Richie and whispered. “Okay, so you said I couldn't say anything until _everyone”_ he nudged his head towards Eddie, “was present. I just want vindication here. I _knew_ it.”

Eddie let go of Richie’s hand and leaned towards Stan. “Knew what Stanley?”

"Yeah, Stanley, what is the Newsflash?"

Stan whispered, “That you two are totally in love.” Eddie and Richie looked at each other. “Look I’m not saying it like it’s a bad thing, I’m just saying that you guys have been all over each other since the day I met you, and I… I _knew_ it, damn it.”

Richie didn't even bother to lower his voice. “Whaddaya want a fucking _prize_? Stan can spot the gays, yowza, he’s really something else.”

Stan looked over to the rest of the group to see if they'd heard, but between the movie noise and their own conversations it was obvious that they hadn't heard a thing. "Look if you guys want it to be a secret or something, then I'll shut up about it."

Eddie smiled at Stan. "I don't want it to be a secret Stan, it's just kind of new news to me. You've known it, for what, _years_ now because you're like a detective or something? No wait, he's a _genius_ , right Rich?" 

"Yep, _Stan the Man_ , smartest man alive."

“I hate both of you.” Stan got up and walked away, shaking his head.

Richie reached for Eddie’s hand. “He loves us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie and his Twilight zone references... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-b5aW08ivHU
> 
> It's an old show, but one that most 80's kids watched re-runs of. I'm a nerd about references, slang and stuff being era appropriate in stories.


	8. Bold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I should continue, and just make this the saga of E & R. I feel like I have more I could write, but I don't want it to end up like some monstrosity with no end that gets abandoned. 
> 
> If you'd be into reading more, let me know. And thanks for the kudos and love!

Eddie couldn't sleep. He had been drinking entirely too much soda throughout the night and his caffeine addled brain was going around in circles. Laying on his back, he listened to the patterned breathing of his sleeping friends as he stared at the stucco ceiling. In the darkness he could see ominous patterns and pictures in the rough white surface, things he knew wouldn't be visible if it were daylight. He turned over on his side, and peeked at Richie, who was in his own sleeping bag. They had opted to set up their sleeping space in the alcove of the den directly in front of the bathroom door, so that they were slightly separated from the others.

_“Richie are you still awake?”_

_“_ Mmmph.” Richie slung his arm across Eddie’s chest and rock-rolled himself forward so that his body was closer, though the sleeping bag fabric put a lot of padding between them. “No. I’m not,” he said, making no effort to keep his voice down.

A soft _Shhhhh_ came from someone across the room. Eddie wasn't sure who it was, but he heard a rustling sound, one of his friends rolling over in their sleeping bag. He brought his face very close and whispered as low as he could into Richie’s ear, which made the other boy shiver. “I can’t sleep.”

Richie whispered back, “Are you even _trying_ to fall asleep? Because I was, and it was working.”

Eddie let out a huffy little breath and glanced across the room to check if anyone else was awake before he whispered again. “Hey, I wanted to say it before, but I’m sorry if the letter I sent you was too formal or whatever. I got all paranoid that Stan was gonna read it so I didn't say some stuff that I wanted to. But I guess it didn't even matter if he did read it or not, considering…”

“That’s what’s keeping you up? Dude. I loved your letter. ‘ _Love, Eddie Spaghetti_?’ Are you kidding me? That made my whole life.” Eddie snaked his hand up out of his sleeping bag and grasped Richie’s, against his chest. “Yeah, I thought it might. I really wanted to write about how nice it was hanging out with you, I mean even though my mom tried to ruin it, it was special to me.”

Richie propped himself up on his elbow so that he was looking down at Eddie, but without glasses on all he could see was the blurry outline of his face and the smudgy darkness of his eyelashes. Cupping his hand to Eddie’s cheek, he leaned down until their lips met. It was longer than their first kiss, and sloppier. Neither of them knew what they were doing.

Richie brought his mouth close enough to graze Eddie's earlobe and whispered breathily, “I hope Sonia K has extra money laying around to hire a construction crew.”

Eddie shuddered a little as he smirked, awaiting a wisecrack. “Why?”

“Because she’s gonna have to build a moat and fill it with piranhas to keep me away from you.”

* * *

Eddie woke up in the middle of the night because he was too hot. Between the insulation from his sleeping bag, and Richie’s warm body close to him, he felt like he was boiling. He unzipped the bag from the inside and gently moved Richie’s arm off of himself so he could get up. Tiptoeing into the bathroom to get a drink of water, he happened upon Bev, who was seated on the floor with her back up against the tub and her knees folded into her chest. Her eyes were glossy and looked a little wild, but she regarded him calmly.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

Eddie shook his head fast. “No, you didn't.” He crossed the space between them and sat beside her, matching her posture. “Are you okay?”

She tucked her hair behind one ear. “Yeah. I’m fine. I just had trouble sleeping tonight. I was just laying there thinking and I couldn't stop… Have you ever tried to remember something but you couldn't? So you keep trying because if you _do_ remember it, it’s like you won something?” She looked at Eddie and bit her lip.

“Yes. Like if I saw a guy in a movie and wondered what other movies I've seen him in. When I can’t figure it out I think, ‘I should know this.’” He looked at her, “But I mean, nothing _major_ like what you’re going through. I don’t mean to like, minimize.”

“No, you’re not. I had a thing like that going on in my head all night. Trying to remember something that happened, and just not being able to. I came in here because I couldn't stop thinking and it was too hot to sleep. It’s cooler sitting on the tiles in here." Eddie nodded in agreement. "It's way too hot for sleeping bags."

"After I came in here, I had a perfectly clear memory. I remembered that I used to like my bathroom.” She made eye contact with Eddie. “When I lived in Derry, my bathroom was a safe haven.” Eddie looked down at the floor and instantly remembered cleaning up that blood. He could see it clearly in his head. It was so disgusting, and it was absolutely splattered _everywhere_ in Beverly’s bathroom. He felt himself starting to get out of breath but willed his heart to slow down.

_Don’t panic now. Breathe in 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe out 1, 2, 3, 4._

“Eddie, are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m okay, just trying to breathe.” He had his inhaler in the pocket of his sweatpants, but he wanted to get control over his breath on his own. The technique Richie had used to help him the day he panicked in the Barrens seemed to work. “What you remembered about your bathroom… was it bad?”

She looked up at the frosted glass on the small window, “I remembered that I used to go into my bathroom when I wanted to be alone, and that I liked it in there. My dad was...” She shook her head. "Scary. If I went into the bathroom, he couldn't bother me." Turning back towards Eddie, she smiled. “And then I remembered that one time I asked you guys to come over to help me clean it, and it was a lot of work.”

Eddie’s breathing was getting back under control. He nodded at Bev. “It _was_ a lot of work, but we got it done fast.” He didn't want to go into the _whys_ of the cleaning-up-party, so he didn't know what else to say. He figured if she didn't remember that herself, he wasn't going to be the one that traumatized her.

“Are you able to breathe better now? I remember that too, that you used a-,” she put her hand by her face and imitated the motion of using an inhaler.

Eddie reached into his pocket and pulled it out. “Yeah, I still use it sometimes but I’m trying not to rely on it. It’s not real medicine.”

“Well if it works when you use it, then isn’t it real to you?”

Eddie shrugged and bobbed his head from side to side as he stuffed the small piece of plastic back into his pocket. “I guess. You said that to me before, you know, when I first found out it was bullshit. ‘’If it helps you, who cares if it’s fake.’”

 “And hey, so… I just wanted to tell you that I saw you and Richie kissing tonight. And I didn't know if that was something I forgot, or something new.”

Eddie felt his face getting hot. “It’s new. But apparently we _weren’t fooling anyone_ according to Stan. We’re going to tell the other guys. Or I guess they’ll probably just figure it out because Richie and _subtle_ don’t mix.”

“Well, I just wanted to let you know you guys are cute. It’s nice to have someone. I remembered something else, too. That Bill and I kissed _,_ I guess right before I moved away. It was sweet.” Eddie yawned, wondering if Richie had been aware of that information and made a mental note to punch him in the arm. Bev put her hand on his shoulder. “Well, maybe we should try to get some sleep? Thanks for talking to me, I know it’s late.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Bev. We’re lucky 7 for life.” They hugged before she headed back to her sleeping bag, leaving Eddie to get his water. He wasn't feeling overheated anymore, and took care of business quickly before tucking himself beside Richie again. The taller boy had shifted in his sleep and was sprawled out on his stomach with his sleeping bag half unzipped. Eddie lay on his side with his back against Richie’s shoulder and he didn't have any trouble falling asleep.

* * *

In the morning, the house was filled with the smell of maple syrup and bacon, a good smell that was only slightly ruined by the mingling aroma of burnt toast. Eddie sat up and looked around the den, realizing he was the last one to wake up. He could see Bill and Bev through the doorway, standing at the stove together. They looked pretty chummy and Eddie was glad. Maybe his talk with Bev had helped her feel a little more comfortable with everyone. He ducked into the bathroom before anyone realized he was awake so he could run his fingers through his hair.

_Jeez how silly is this, I’m worried about looking like a mess in front of my best friend. I hate waking up last._

The hair was kind of a lost cause, though, so he went to the kitchen to join everyone.

“Good Morning, Sleeping Beauty. Bevvie tells us you two were up late sharing Kodak moments.” Richie passed him a glass of orange juice as he sat at the table.

“Beep-beep, Richie.” Bev said from the stove without turning around.

“Look at that, right back into the swing of things, everyone wants me to shut up. It’s like coming home.”

Eddie sipped his juice, noticing that they were lacking a few losers. “Where are the other guys?”

“They went on a m-mission to get a tube of cin-n-amon rolls. I t-told them we have plenty of stuff here, b-but…” Bill turned and rolled his eyes at both of them before focusing his attention back on the bacon. Richie motioned to Eddie and pointed at the den. They walked into the room and Richie pulled him by his elbow over near the bathroom door.

“Okay so, at some point last night, I may have started spooning you in my sleep, and it’s possible that when I woke up Bill, Mike and Ben were already awake. Okay no, I definitely was spooning you, and all of them saw.”

Eddie shrugged at him. “I mean, is it a big deal to you, Richie?” To Eddie it wasn't. His friends were a group of misfits, each with a different unique reason they were a target to the prospective bullies in their lives. That alone made them more accepting than most people he’d known in his life. “I expected my mom to freak, your mom will probably freak slightly less, but Bill? Ben? I don’t think they’re going to care that much”

Richie looked thoughtful. “No, it’s not a big deal. I just envisioned us telling them, like with words. Not _getting caught_ and then being like ‘aw, shucks sorry we didn’t tell you.’ Ya know?”

Eddie knew how he felt. “Speaking of which, Bev saw us kissing last night.”

Richie laughed. “Awesome. So we’re the least stealthy people who ever existed. It’s pretty hilarious that it took us years to figure this shit out, but they all already know what’s going on four days after our first kiss.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

* * *

After breakfast, everyone was helping to clean up the mess they’d all made in the Denbrough house. Ben and Mike cleared the table and cleaned it, while Bill and Bev worked on the counter and stove. Eddie was attempting to make a dent in the disaster area formerly known as the den. Richie scrubbed the dishes, mildly pissed that he got the worst job. Stan paused his sweeping and sidled up to Richie at the sink.

“So I hear that you and our little friend were pretty cuddly last night.”

“Stanley, are you jealous? You’re not my type. Too tall, too mean, no fashion sense.”

“Oh you wish, Tozier.”

Bill overheard them and stopped cleaning the counter to join the conversation. “So, you and E-eddie, huh? Is th-that what all the weirdness has been about? You and Stan acting like f-freaks yesterday?”

Richie nodded. “Yeah, sorry I didn't tell you Billy. It’s all kinda new.”

Bill shrugged. "It's not exactly a sh-shocker. Stan bet me that you guys l-liked each other once and I was like 'n-no way, Richie would have told me,' but I guess I lost the bet."

Richie threw Stan a mock-offended glare. "Oh so that's what your whole 'vindication' shit was about, you just wanted to stick it to Denbrough? So classy, Stan." 

Ben brought a stack of plates over to the sink. “So was that letter you were reading yesterday from Eddie?”

Richie placed the plates into the sink and ran water onto them. “Brilliant deduction, young Benjamin. You and Stan oughta team up and form a private investigator team.”

Ben rolled his eyes, “It’s not like it was a hard thing to figure out. Let’s just say I wasn't blown away when I woke up and saw you guys this morning.”

“I’ve thought you two needed to get a room since I met you all, but I never said anything,” Mike added, and Stan pointed at him with his eyebrows raised to Richie. “See, I told you.”

 Beverly sat down at the cleaned table, taking a break. “I think it’s sweet. I’m happy for you guys.”

Eddie came into the kitchen and sat beside Beverly. “What’s sweet?”

Stanley smirked at him. “You and Richie, sitting in a tree.”

* * *

 

Parents began arriving to pick up each of the losers. The change in Beverly from the previous night had been huge, and each of them hugged her hard before she got into her aunt's car to go to the new place she called home. Bill had the hardest time saying goodbye, because he knew that future visits would probably be out of the question. It was too much for her to re-acclimate herself only to have it ripped away by leaving Derry again. None of them knew it, but this slumber party would be the last time that all of them were together in the same room. If they knew, they might have made it last longer, or done something ceremonious to mark the occasion.

Eddie and Richie were the last to leave. They sat out on the stoop waiting for Mrs K to pull up.

“So, are you going to tell your parents?”

Richie sighed. “Yeah, I mean I guess I have to. I don’t know what they’re going to say.”

“Well it can’t be worse than the shit my mother said.”

Eddie’s mother pulled into the driveway, and scowled at Richie through the window. She honked.

“Wow, she hates me.”

Eddie stepped down off the stoop to leave. With Richie seated on the middle step, they were the same height. He leaned his hands on Richie’s shoulders and kissed him, knowing full well his mother was watching. Richie brought his hands up to touch either side of Eddie’s face. When they pulled back Eddie smiled. “Let’s go on a real date next week, okay? I’ll tell her I joined chess team or some shit.”

Richie watched him walk to the car in awe.

_Kid’s got brass balls. And I love him._


End file.
